


Hunter's Pursuit

by LogosMinusPity



Category: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Drama, F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 55,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LogosMinusPity/pseuds/LogosMinusPity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A solo hunting trip leads to a chance encounter for the Yun huntress with an exotic foreigner. That inconspicuous beginning evolves to something more</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in a world similar to old Gran Pulse but without any fal'Cie or l'Cie.

Hunting had been tough today. Most of the usual herds of grazers that they hunted had been migrating out of the plains as was wont with the seasons changing; they would be back soon enough. But for now it meant that instead of going out in large hunting parties on the plains, they had to split and focus more on trapping and tracking. Though young, Fang was a rising star of the Yun clan, both a blooded hunter and warrior. Since she was not exactly the best of trappers, she had been given leave to pursue her own marks for the day. While she missed having her adoptive sister and best mate Vanille at her side, when on her own she could push herself as hard and as fast as she wanted.

For today that had meant she ended up tracing the movements of an ugallu for the greater portion of the afternoon. It had been stupid enough to pick a fight with her on the low slopes of the mountain range, but as soon as she had landed the first solid blow against it, it had (wisely, in her opinion) fled, making its injured way higher up into the alpine forest that the hunters and villagers alike only rarely traversed. Fang had been in no rush to end her trek quickly—she knew she had the benefit of endurance and a packed meal over the creature, after all—but now that evening was starting to approach and she was much farther up into the mountainside that what she ever dared before, she was pressing her chase, and she knew she was close.

Picking up her pace, she jogged into a clearing in the woods, and right upon her prey, though not as she expected it.

The ugallu was dead, but not by her hand.

It lay on its side, blood still pouring from its obvious fatal blow: an arrow had struck it perfectly through the throat. It would have been an instant death. Fang looked about, alert for any source of danger—for whomever the owner of that arrow was. She had never heard of anyone venturing so far up into the mountains. Her gaze was immediately caught by something.

At the base of one of the nearby trees lay several objects. They were familiar to Fang, but this far into the wilderness, they were also bizarrely out of place. There was a clutch of plump woodland birds, all freshly killed and strung together; there was a finely tooled leather satchel, imprinted with various patterns and symbols that matched no clans or settlements Fang could think of; there was also a blade the likes of which she had never seen before. It was the same silver as a mirror's edge, elegantly curved and completely spotless, with an inscription engraved along the base near the intricate handle. It was also clearly not designed for hunting, but for fighting. She reached out with her left hand and stepped forward grab the sword and better inspect it.

"Another step closer and it will be your last."

The coldly precise and crisp voice cut through the air like a knife, halting Fang in her tracks. Though the threat was very real, she found herself equally intrigued to see who the owner of the said distinctly feminine voice was. She slowly pulled her hand back, standing up and turning around to demonstrate that she had not yet touched anything, although she kept the other hand tightly wrapped around her spear shaft.

Her eyes searched the forest around her, but she could not find any figures, even with her keen gaze.

"No need to be hasty, now," she suggested, trying to remain calm as she continued looking for the hidden source of the voice.

"I'll be the judge of that."

_There!_

On a low-hanging branch in one of the larger trees, an arrow was trained perfectly on her face. Fang was more than confident in her skills as a hunter and a warrior of the Yun clan, but even she didn't want to take her chances with the obviously experienced hand focused on her. She scanned her potential opponent rapidly, though it was hard to make out details in the dappled lighting, and the other woman was, smartly, concealed more in shadow than light. It  _was_  a woman; that much was sure: young, slender, with pale skin and light hair, and hunting gear that matched neither Fang's village nor any of the others within reasonable distance.

"Drop your weapon," came the sharp order.

Fang responded automatically. "You drop yours and I'll drop mine."

Though the woman's face was obscured by the shade, Fang swore she caught the movement of a raised and bemused eyebrow. "You aren't really in the position to bargain here, now are you?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Fang said, shrugging her shoulders casually. "Maybe you'll be in for a surprise from this pretty little face of mine."

She gave a winning smile and heard the low growl of exasperation from the archer. That was a good sign in her book. She decided to temper her statement. "Besides, I'm only here to collect this guy," she pointed back to the ugallu to clarify any potential confusion.

Fang gave one more concession by taking another step back. There was a moment of tense silence before the taut bow finally relaxed, and then, with an enviable natural grace, the other woman leapt down into the clearing.

As she dropped down from her perch, a glistening white trail seemed to follow her. Once she landed—barely disturbing the bed of leaves and grass with her feet—Fang saw what that white trail actually was, and everything clicked together. The "trail" was a garment, a cape-like mantle that hung from her waist-belt and draped behind one leg. It was not made of cloth, though, but of interconnecting and shining white feathers, more like a vast wing instead.

This woman was a member of the Lost Tribe.

According to the old histories, when the Great War had broken out, all of the vast kingdoms and cities had been pulled in to the world-wide civil war. While many had dived headlong into it, some factions had resisted the conflict longer than others, with varying measures of success. One such faction had been the city-state of Eden. Eden had been a sprawling urban metropolis, a high altitude capital built into the very mountainside of the one of the highest peaks of the central Terebor Range. Their hard-to-reach location and isolationist policies had kept them from the worst for a many years, but eventually they too succumbed as battle spilled across their borders. Their shining capital had been razed to the ground, and almost all of the people had been slaughtered.

Most who managed to live and escape had fled, intermarrying into the other tribes and settlements that had survived through the war-torn land. Rumors had persisted of a Lost Tribe, of a remnant faction of Eden that still lived in their high and hidden aeries in the mountains, where no outsiders or war could take them again; but as the years passed and the known survivors died out, the rumors became legend more than anything else. At least until now.

The histories Fang knew as a warrior always talked about the great Zephyr Guardians, the ancient soldiers of Eden who could move as fast as the wind, and who wore glowing capes of feathers to match with the white griffins that they had once shared their lofty city with.

She also recalled hearing stories about the length of their winged capes and how many feathers they had—the more feathers a warrior possessed, the more proven they were; almost like how her own tattoo showed her value and worth to the Yun clan. She had no other wing-capes in all of living memory to compare to, but everything about the way this woman held herself screamed that she was an individual quite at home with her weapons.

However, as the woman of the Lost Tribe stepped fully into the light of the clearing, Fang was presented with a view that showed more than just a fighter.

She was a vision of fragile caution and deadly grace, different from any of the warriors or hunters Fang had come across, and surely no older than Fang herself. The exposed skin of her arms and face glowed alabaster, as if never touched by sun; her hair was a light strawberry pink, neither copper nor gold but somewhere in between; and her eyes were a piercing blue like a cloudless sky, suspicious and dangerous even as they pinned Fang where she stood. For all that she looked as delicate and beautiful as fine china, Fang knew better than to fully let her guard down.

Keeping her eyes on Fang, she moved soundlessly toward her pack, dropping her composite bow and hooking the fantastical blade onto her belt. Fang noted the exchange and how it indicated that the stranger was likely more at ease with the sword than with the ranged weapon, should worst come to worst. But she was more taken with how the woman was able to move so quietly on the bed of the forest floor while wearing her obviously armored boots. Fang did choose to wear her sandals for a reason.

Realizing that they had unintentionally come to another quiet standoff while she had been reviewing history in her head, she broke the silence again.

"I'm Fang of the Yun clan, from the village Oerba," she moved back and knelt before the fallen ugallu, dropping her spear. After a pause, she heard the woman follow her, and then saw her kneel next to the head as she began to work her arrow out. "I'm a huntress, though I take it this was your work here. Very nice."

"Ah…thank you." She sounded flustered by the compliment. The arrow came free with a sickly wet slap. "You landed a solid blow to injure him first though. He simply crossed me before you reached him."

"Yeah. I'd been tracking this guy almost all day. Got a shot on him back near the plains, but then he took off like a chocobo on a rampage."

The woman turned toward her, a glimmer of surprise showing in her eyes before morphing into a new shade of respect. Her voice was low and husky, pleasing to Fang's ears. "That's quite a ways to track this one beast."

Fang ran a hand over the blood-matted fur. "It's to bring back as food for my village and my sister, so it's more than worth the chase."

Had she not been focused on the dead ugallu, she would have seen how the Zephyr warrior's cold eyes softened visibly with empathy. They both stood, Fang hefting the kill over her shoulders easily before grabbing her spear up again. By the time her palms touched her lance, the other woman had already gathered her own gear together. They stared at each other, both unsure of what to do. Fang wanted badly to ask so many things, but she  _did_  need to return home, not to mention she was fairly certain that the Edenian descendent would not be happy or willing to cooperate with her game of twenty questions; she seemed uncomfortable enough with Fang as it was.  _They_ are _the Lost Tribe for a reason…_

Nonetheless, Fang shifted the weight of the ugallu and thrust a hand outward in the typical offering of a hunter's grasp. Surely that was still universal even after the war? The woman eyed Fang's hand at first, but after a second's hesitation, she returned the clasp so that they held each others' forearms firmly, feeling the strength of tendon and muscle beneath skin and bracers.

"May you travel with the wind," she intoned solemnly before Fang could speak. Fang was not familiar with the phrase, and so responded with the traditional parting from Oerba.

"And may the sun be on your back."

And with that, just like the wind, the rose-haired warrior darted away into the trees to head further up the mountain.

"Wait!" yelled Fang, taking a few steps forward. She didn't bother giving chase, though. The other woman had the clear advantage of not only sheer speed but also terrain familiarity. Trying to follow in the fading light was already a lost cause. "You didn't even tell me your name!"

While she scanned the woods, she thought she caught a flash of pink briefly before the voice called back out, both hesitant and amused. "Lightning. My name is Lightning."

Fang stood there dumbly for another few seconds, a small smile growing on her features as she rolled the foreign name on her tongue before going back the way she had come. "Lightning…"

She thought it was more than fitting.


	2. Chapter 2

Lightning walked back into her house, ears picking up immediately on the pervading silence. It was not entirely out of place. With only her and her younger sister left to inhabit the large and once bustling family residence, it was all too often very quiet. She called out for her sister.

"Serah?"

Not hearing any response, she ventured further in through the carved stone hallways until she entered the open common room where her sister lay curled up on the couch, fast asleep. Granted, night had fallen several hours ago, but Lightning was still somewhat amused. She approached and sat on the edge of the couch softly, careful not disturb the slumbering figure.

"Serah." Her voice was just above a whisper as she gently brushed a stray lock of hair free from her sister's face. As if on cue, Serah's face scrunched and her eyes slowly fluttered awake.

"Light," she said, smiling up at her older sister. Then her brow furrowed slightly as she took in the Zephyr gear. "You were supposed to be home earlier."

"I'm sorry, Serah, I got held up a bit on my patrol."

The furrow grew deeper. "What happened? Are you okay?"

Lightning thought of the outsider she had encountered, with her strange accent and her self-sure manner.

"Claire?"

Serah was concerned now. Lightning smoothed it away with another small reassuring smile.

"Just an ugallu that wandered up from the plains, that's all."

It was half-true, at least. Lightning didn't see the point in telling Serah the whole of it. It would only cause problems, and possibly drag both of them into trouble.  _If_  the wrong people caught wind of it and  _if_  there were going to be any potential repercussions, she didn't want her little sister to get involved.

Serah was normally uncannily good at picking up on when Lightning was hiding something from her, but either the partial truth or her haze of sleepiness got the better of her. "Oh, wow. Was it hard to fight?"

She chuckled warmly at that. "Not terribly." That much was true. Pushing up off of the couch, she offered a hand toward her sister. "Come on, Serah, you should probably go to bed now. I'll be retiring soon, too."

While Serah made her way to her bedroom, half-heartedly grumbling about how Lightning was her sister not her mother, Light turned back toward the door for a moment, briefly fingering her right forearm, where that huntress—Fang—had held it in a tight grasp, as sure and as strong as Lightning's own.

* * *

Low-hanging, misty clouds crowded around the mountain slopes and out into the plains. The first touch of the rainy season had rolled in overnight, and the light but steady rain that had started in the early hours of the morning before dawn showed no sign of letting up, much like the dreary and endless clouds that carried it.

Fang pulled her waterproofed hide over cloak around her shoulders tighter, and felt a trickle of water drip unpleasantly down her neck from her soaked hair. Oerba was temperate, but it didn't make the damp air any less uncomfortable. She pushed her wheelbarrow full of grazing grass into the stables, heading toward the back where Vanille was grooming one of the chocobos. Once there, Vanille started chatting excitedly with her again while she began unloading the grass for the mounts to feed.

Following in the footsteps of most of her clansmen and women, Fang was a huntress. But like everyone else who lived in the village, they all contributed to what was needed. On a rainy day like this, when there was no hunting to be done, Fang absentmindedly wished she was a banker or a tavern-keeper or even one of the crystal technicians, or any of the other many jobs in the village that meant staying inside and dry. Instead, she had been nominated to help out in the stables; and by nominated, she meant told by one of the village officials, who also happened to be a senior-ranking Yun clan member.

" _Why do I have to?"_

" _Stop complaining, Yun Fang. As a marked warrior you do a disservice to yourself with your pouting."_

_She frowned. She was_ not _pouting._

" _The Yun clan takes pride in how even the mightiest of our hunters and clan siblings will give hand for the good of Oerba." Sighing at Fang's close-mouthed reticence, he added in one more bit to his lecture. "Besides, you'll have your sister to keep you company."_

Vanille was not her sister—well, not by blood; not even by clan. Vanille was part of the Dia clan that also lived in Oerba.

Where the Yuns were hunters and warriors, priding themselves on physical strength and prowess, the Dias were more healers and historians. Where Fang was tall, with tanned skin and smoky sable hair, Vanille was short and pale, with a locks the same red-orange pastel as a sunset

Nonetheless, Vanille was her sister as surely as if they had come from the same womb. Both had been nearly inseparable since childhood. Fang had always been fiercely protective of the younger woman, willing to go any lengths necessary for her, and Vanille had been the exact same back. They were more than best friends, they were sisters, and by now, everyone in the village thought of them as such, even their own families and clans.

On today, however, she was less concerned with hearing how the Dia clan was going to appoint a new elder and more interested in the view that the stable window give her out across the meadow and toward the Tarborean Mountain Range.

Despite all of her staring, the clouds that shrouded the peaks refused to give way to sun and blue skies at all. Now, more than ever, she knew that the mountains as much as the clouds hid more than just empty wilderness.

"Fang!"

She nearly jerked around when Vanille yelled her name petulantly.  _Uh-oh_. The younger woman was genuinely annoyed now, Fang could tell.

"You're not paying attention to me at all! I've been talking to you, but you keep looking outside. There's not even anything to see out there today!"

"I'm sorry, Vanille. I'll listen now. Promise." Even so, she had to fight to keep her head from automatically turning back toward the window view.

"What is it, Fang? It's not like you to day dream like this. What's going on?"

There was no point in keeping secrets from her adoptive sister. Their relationship had never been like that, not to mention this gave Fang an excuse to finally talk about what had been weighing on her mind.

"I…"  _Damn it, woman, why are you getting cold feet now?_  It just suddenly seemed so implausible even to her. She had wanted to tell Vanille, to tell everyone, when she had gotten back yesterday evening. But by the time she had returned to Oerba, night had fallen and she had been quickly whisked away into the whirlwind that was the village-wide celebration for the end of hunting season. There had been no time, and so she had collapsed into her bed at the end of the night without saying a word to a single soul. "Yesterday, I was so late getting back because I met a woman on the mountainside."

"Fang!" This time Vanille sounded scandalized, theatrically clutching her hands to her face and blushing as she turned away. "Really? You couldn't wait until after you'd collected food for the village? I thought you'd matured out of that phase!"

"Wha..? I—no! Gods, that's not what I meant!" Fang corrected, scowling. "I was just hunting, I swear. Sheesh."

She felt her own cheeks warming slightly, though she was certain that her tanner complexion hid it. Alright, to be fair she had had her own well-known share of adventures in the past with various young ladies, but even she knew better than to goof off like that near the tail end of hunting season. She cleared her throat, still throwing glares at Vanille; Van should know her better than that.

"Anyway…"

Vanille looked up guilty at Fang's unspoken admonition for a moment before her curiosity sparked back to life. "Oh! So if you weren't busy trying to seduce her, who was it? Was it someone in the village? No wait! You said you'd just met them on the mountain? A trader? Another hunter? But from where?"

Fang crossed her arms in mock vexation. "Well, if you'd let me talk…"

She could have laughed at how easy Vanille was to read. She quieted immediately, looking expectant. "Well?"

Fang smiled at how she had managed to silence her sister, and continued with her story. "I wasn't lying when I said I was hunting up there. That ugallu I hauled back led me on quite the chase. I followed it up the mountain, well into the forests and higher than where you and the other doctors and healers go to collect herbs."

"But you found more than just your mark."

"Yeah, that's where I met this…this woman. She had already slain the ugallu by the time I caught up to it again."

"So she was a hunter?" questioned Vanille. "From what settlement?"

Fang paused pensively. "I don't think she was a hunter. Her initial greeting was the threat of an arrow through my throat, after all, ha. She seemed…more like a soldier, almost."

"She tried to  _shoot you with an arrow_  and you—"

"I think she was from the Lost Tribe."

That nipped off in the bud whatever Vanille had been about to say. There was a drawn out silence before she collected her thoughts enough to respond. "WHAT?"

More than a few heads, both feathered and human, turned toward them, startled by the outburst.

"Sorry! Don't mind us!" called out Fang. She gave a reassuring jovial wave and smile. Their fellow villagers were all more that used to their antics, so they quickly went back to their own business. Vanille had the grace to at least give a sheepish grin.

"Sorry. But wait, wait! The Lost Tribe? Why in the world would you think that? I mean, I know people have searched for them since before even the elders' time, but no one ever found them. They were just a…a legend. Are you sure you weren't getting altitude sickness hallucinations?"

"Van! I wasn't even high up enough for that. And she was definitely  _not_  a hallucination. She did kill the ugallu. And we even shared the hunter's parting before we split ways; you know, after she'd warmed up to me enough to put her weapons down."

This time it was Vanille who looked out the window and at the weather obscured mountain ranges. "The Lost Tribe…I can't believe it. How did you know? Did she tell you?"

"Uh, no," began Fang, feeling a bit ridiculous. She trusted her gut, though, both then and now. "But she had the feather-cape, the wing, just like out of the stories, Vanille. It couldn't have been anything else, not even like anything the cities make or have. It was…beautiful." Just like the warrior. Beautifully untouchable.

"Fang?"

This was not a good day for her focus, Fang decided, her reverie breaking up yet again, courtesy of Vanille. She ruffled the younger woman's hair affectionately. "You should have seen her. She was something else, like right out of the legends, I tell you."

"I'll bet she was something else…" The reply was muttered, with a suggestive glance.

Fang smacked Vanille's shoulder lightly. "Oh, shut it, you." Then she pondered the thought herself for a moment. "Besides, I think she was ready to run me through with her blade more than anything. Anyway, don't go blabbing about this to everyone. I don't need them thinking I'm having high altitude hallucinations, too."

Vanille uncharacteristically did not respond to the teasing remark. "Why haven't you told anyone else? There's the village elders, your clan leaders, or even your father."

"Ha. Well I didn't have time when I got back yesterday. And now that I think about it, why would they believe me? The Great War ended over a century ago, and all of the Edenians died out. That or they were integrated. Remember? I think Tero's great-grandfather was one of the survivors from Eden, right?" She was getting off track. "Regardless, the point is, even if they did believe, what then?"

What indeed?

Vanille raised a quizzical eyebrow, but let the matter drop. "Okay…but what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you going to do anything?"

Now she was confused. "What would I do, Van?"

"Why not go back up the mountain? See if you can't find her again." Just like that. As if there was nothing to it.

Fang sighed. "As lovely as that sounds, I doubt that Lightning will be there."

"Lightning? That's an…interesting name. Not entirely what I'd expect." Then Vanille laughed. "Not that I'd know what to expect from an Edenian. Anyway, whatever her name is, it never hurts to try! Maybe she'll actually be there. Who knows?"

* * *

Vanille had been right, in the end. Fang had found herself unable to quell her curiosity, and the next day she had embarked back up the alpine slopes, gaining exit from the clan and village under the premise of looking for some rare herbal flower for the healers. Though she was unfamiliar with the forested areas, her navigational senses still served her well, and she was able to find her way back toward the same clearing from two days earlier. She scanned the openings in the trees, and walked into the grassy center.

Once there, she knelt and trailed her fingers over the moist earth. The rain had stopped overnight, but the heavy clouds still hung over the plains.

Swallowing down her self-conscious pride, Fang stood, cleared her throat and called out loudly. "Lightning!"

There was nothing. There was no hidden archer in the trees, no one watching her from a distance; she was an accomplished enough hunter to be able to tell that much using her senses. She was alone.


	3. Chapter 3

The rainy season had been hard for Fang, harder than what she ever remembered. It was, in general, always difficult to get through the off-season; things were slow for the hunters, and they were cooped up, stuck with too little to do. But Fang had found herself even more disinterested and bored than usual. She tried to train, tried to learn new skills and acquire new knowledge, but she pined for the freedom of the hunt and to let herself loose outside of the village walls, a luxury she was not afforded while the rain dragged on for months on end.

Vanille had, of course, noticed, and tried to do what she could, but it seemed as though she had not been the only one to notice Fang's lapse of attention over the rainy season, though.

At the moment, Fang walked briskly through the streets of the Yun Quarter of Oerba. The rain had died down to an occasional drizzle, but she still had no desire to stay out in it longer than necessary. She had been enjoying her dinner with Van when a messenger had arrived calling for Fang to attend on her father at the Yun meeting hall. While her father was not an elder among the Yuns, his advice and words were highly respected. He came from a long line of honorable Yun warriors, and was deferred to by all of the young hunters in the village. He was all too frequently engaged in talks and planning not only with the clan but with the village council. And although he had not yet given up hunting entirely, her father was surely on his way to retiring into the role of a magnanimous elder or official.

Inside the meeting hall, she found her father still talking with one of the clan elders a few of the other senior warriors. Caught frozen at the door frame from whence she entered, she dropped her head immediately. "Father, I'm sorry. If this is a bad time…"

"No, no," he waved her in. "We were just finishing."

True to his word, the other clan members soon rose, each giving gentle partings to both Fang and her father as they left the room. Once they were all gone, Fang faced the man before her. She wasn't sure if she had been called on to face her father, or to face Oerba Yun Sol.

"Father," acknowledged Fang again, bowing before him.

"Fang," he nodded back. His voice was a deep and smooth baritone. "I am pleased with the work and dedication you have shown this past year, not only to your family, but to your village. You have brought honor to the Yun name with your growth and maturation."

"Thank you." She was not sure what else to say.

Her father looked up at her, meeting her questioning viridian eyes with his hazel gaze. She looked so like her mother to him. Oh, they shared the same bronzed skin, the same muscular build and dark hair. But where his hair was jet black, hers had playful hints of red, and where his eyes were the color of freshly felled pines, hers were the color of newly unfurled fern leaves, just like Saerla's. He patted the pillowed seat next to him, indicating that she should sit down.

It was no longer Oerba Yun Sol, the veteran warrior and favored elder-to-be talking to her, but her father—the man who had single-handedly raised her for the past twelve years since her mother died. He looked fondly at his daughter, now no longer a child but a woman. He had been so proud when she completed her first solo hunt, when she had won her place as a warrior in the battle circle, and when she had tattooed on her upper arm the Maw of the Beast in accordance with all of her accolades as a Yun, and as his child. But still, he feared that he had never been the best at showing that pride and admiration.

"I know that Saerla…your mother…would be happy if she could see you now."

Fang nodded wordlessly, looking down. She knew personally how hard it was for her father to talk about her mother, so his words meant a great deal to her.

"Let me see your weapon." She handed it over without question. Fang took care of it exactly as she had been taught, as any good Yun should. She always cleaned it after use and kept the edges razor sharp, nonetheless she was nervous as her father very pointedly inspected every inch of her spear.

He could find no fault in it. Fang had indeed taken all of her lessons to heart well. Even so, this spear, while it had served his daughter well, would not be enough. The exertion of extended use was taking its toll, and he could feel the strain on both the blade and the shaft. He had no doubt that Fang was unaware of it—even he could only tell through his many years of experience.

"Dad?"

"This is no good." He hushed away her protests before they could even form on her lips. "You need a weapon to better match you."

"Sir?"

He leaned back into his pillows, setting the spear aside. Then he heaved himself up, towering impressively over the room. Fang followed suit at his command. "Let us go."

She followed him wordlessly out of the meeting hall and back out onto the street of Yun Quarter. As he led her through the stone paved roads, passerby clansmen and clanswomen all took the extra second to bow their heads toward him, giving their greetings.

"Sol."

"Yun Sol."

"Sun be with you, Sol."

He was not an elder, no, not yet, but her father was deeply respected and loved within the tribe. After several minutes of their interrupted walking, they finally arrived at her father's intended destination, the clan armory. The entrance door was guarded by two blooded Yun warriors; not just anyone could access the armory without special leave, but her father was one of the few clan members that could.

"Yun Sol!" Both guardsmen saluted smartly with a fist over their hearts. After an extra moment, they both glanced back toward Fang, inclining their heads briefly. "Yun Fang."

"Sun at your backs, Hallis, Ari. I will be taking my daughter, Fang with me to the armory now."

"By your leave, Sol." They once again saluted, and then stood aside so that both Sol and Fang could enter.

They marched straight into the weapons stock room. Here, in this immaculately cleaned and kept room, was the heart of what she, and all Yuns, were.

The Yun clan had always been hunters by background, but during the Great War, they had made another name for themselves as warriors. But perhaps one of their greatest defining characteristics as warriors had been their treatment of weapons. Everyone had a weapon they preferred to use, one that they felt most at home with, but others often described Yuns as treating their weapon of choice closer than a bedmate. Oh, they would use whatever was on hand as needed in a fire fight, but as far as clan lessons went, your chosen weapon  _was_  closer than even a mate, because for a warrior, you would live and die by that weapon.

In this room, carefully mounted and racked in every which way, stood sparkling and beautiful weapons. Some had been used before, though you could not tell it. Others were fresh from the forge, not yet molded by any hand.

"Pick one, any one here, Fang, and it is yours."

She stared first disbelievingly at her father, second toward the room before her, and then back at her father again.

He smiled, and a low rumble if laughter rose from his chest. This was one of the few moments he had seen his brash daughter hesitate. "Go."

Feeling embarrassingly shy, Fang stepped further into the room, running her hands lightly over the variety of weapons before her. Swords, axes, bows, crystal guns…the list went on and on, and no two weapons were the same. Ultimately she found herself gravitating toward the spear racks on the far wall, fingertips running up the row of long-bodied weapons before trailing back down, coming to rest on the same object it had initially hovered over. She picked it up and felt the weight on her palms. It was a lance, similar to her old spear but heavier, and with an added twist. The lance had two forms; the first and most obvious being the spear form, and the second being the dual-wielding chain form. With the correct activation mechanism, the spear body could break up into three parts, with the two spears heads broken off from the body to be connected only by a chain. It allowed the user more versatility in close combat, making them more unpredictable. The red-lacquered lance felt at home in her hands.

She turned around, and Sol was at her side. So engrossed in her process, she had not even heard him move. He took the weapon gently from her and hefted the lance in his hands, testing its balance, its edge, its weight. After giving an experimental slash, he nodded and handed the weapon back to his daughter. It was a good choice to be sure. He approved.

"It will need breaking in. But more than that, it will need your marking. I expect to see both you and it at the Proving Trials this summer. Until then, you have full access to the armory. Honor your name. I eagerly await to see what you will do."

He then left Fang standing in the middle of the weapon stock room, her mouth slightly ajar as her mind wrapped around what had just occurred.

The Proving Trials were the highlight of Oerban life. In midsummer, at the height of trading season, Oerba held an open fair so great that it had to be hosted on the flat plains in front of the city. Merchants and caravans from cities and settlements all across the land would come and set up their tents, cumulatively trading more gil in that week than what Oerba would see in the rest of the year. However, the greatest highlight of the Oerban fair was by and far the Faultwarrens, or what most people casually called the Proving Trials. On the most basic level of the Trials, individuals could contest in simple tests of skill—archery, riding, et cetera—but on the highest level, there was an entire day of just one-on-one combat, with the overall winner decreed Titan of the Trials. There was no physical reward for the Titan besides a crown of forget-me-not flowers to mark their victory, yet the true gift to winner went beyond the fair. The victor was recognized far and wide as a Titan, guaranteeing them the greatest of honors wherever they journeyed. Not to mention, for groups or clans like the Yuns, it meant greater respect and employment as warriors and guards. Her father had won once, years before she was even born, which was perhaps part of the reason why, despite his age, he was already regarded with the same reverence as an elder. But at her age, if Fang could even manage to place among the top five…well, there would be much talk, indeed.

And much work needed before that.

What her father had intimated, beside the obvious of needing to train, was for Fang to spend the appropriate time to upgrade and customize her new weapon, to turn it not into simply a lance that fit her well, but into  _her lance_. And considering how tough the competition would be at the Proving Trials, she would need all the help she could get. Alone in the storage room, she twirled the lance about, transforming it into dual-wielding chain form before snapping it back into a full spear. It felt good, just like how she knew without bragging that she was good, but it was going to take a lot more than that. For the first time in months, Fang grinned, pleased with the turn of events. She had a new challenge before her.

* * *

Now that the rainy season was over, the weather was so much more tolerable. The sticky humidity had let up, and here on the mountainside, where there was always a good breeze to be had, it was enjoyable to be out. Even though hunting season had started up again, with her personal mission to focus on the upcoming Faultwarrens, Fang had been mostly excused from the group hunts that she would have otherwise joined in on. As for her task, things had been going more slowly than intended. She looked down at her lance that she now carried. Since choosing it, she had made progress: she had made some upgrades, carved her name elegantly into the shaft, and even decided on a name.

_Kain's Lance,_ after the legendary war hero of long ago, Highwind Yun Kain.

The unfortunate news was that she had realized with more and more of her bench work that was definitely going to need a trapezohedron to finish her upgrades, which meant hunting adamantoise. For a task of that magnitude, she would need the help of a veteran hunting party, so until their schedules cleared up, she was stuck waiting and training.

On this day though, having grown sick of continuous morning training, she decided to accompany Vanille on an excursion out into the country-side to look for some various medicinal herbs. Vanille could handle herself pretty well in a fight against local wildlife if it came to that, but to be on the safe side, especially since Van had wanted to go up onto the mountain, Fang went with her. Gathering all these different flowers and roots was usually dull work, but it was also a refreshing change of pace for Fang. Sometimes you just needed a break from the daily grind.

"Van! I'm going to head this way for a bit to look for more of those yellow flowers you need. I shouldn't be too far, just holler if you need anything."

Vanille nodded without turning toward Fang; she was in the middle of digging up a few roots from the ground, and focused on her work. Fang chuckled and shook her head, continuing through the wood to another clearing where she caught a flash of yellow. Upon closer inspection, she found that these were not the same flowers that Vanille had her on a wild goose-chase for.  _Too bad_.

"When are you going to learn your lesson and stay in your lowlands?"

It was that same cutting voice, chiming icily through the air.  _Not icily,_  she corrected herself. It seemed cold at first, but she could hear something else beneath the incredulity.

"What can I say, I just couldn't help myself?"

She turned around to see the Edenian, Lightning, now standing about ten paces away, her head cocked to the side as she studied Fang. Fang felt a shiver run through her at how intently those bright blue eyes were focusing on her.

"Glad to see that we've grown beyond greetings with drawn weapons, Lightning," she offered, unsure of what else to say.

"Fang," The name was said slowly, as if testing out new waters, and Fang loved how it rolled off of the other woman's tongue. Months of not seeing her, of resigning herself to forget the exotic woman were brushed away in an instant, and she found herself completely taken in again. "You certainly have your own distinct way with words."

Fang grinned at the mix of compliment and insult. It was too easy and fun with this one, even if she was risking Lightning's sudden, and perhaps violent, wrath. "I'm a charmer like that. No bow today?"

She had quickly assessed the other woman upon her sudden appearance. She looked essentially the same as Fang last recalled: wing-cape, rose hair, pale skin; slightly different armor than prior, and while a glance confirmed what appeared to the same sword strapped at her waist, there was no bow and arrow that Fang could see.

Lightning made a clucking sound of disregard in response. "I didn't need it." She stated it simply, full of a confidence that comes only from experience. "My sword serves me well enough." Then she seemed to regain her sense of place. "Honestly, though, what  _are_  you doing this far up the mountain? And with another lowlander this time? You shouldn't be here."

Her eyes had motioned back toward the trees behind Fang, where Fang knew that Vanille was busy collecting roots perhaps a hundred yards or so away. An abrupt surge of protective instinct burned away any playful flirtations that had been hanging on the edge of her tongue. Her muscles automatically clenched defensively. "That's my sister. We were only gathering medicinal herbs that only grow along the mountain."

Her tone dared the Zephyr Warrior to say something more, and Lightning could read that in a heartbeat. Fang had gone from open, relaxed body language, to a closed aggressive and possessive stance. Her eyes, which Lightning had—in an uncharacteristically poetic moment—thought of as a vibrant malachite, had shadowed dangerously. There was a moment of awkward tension before Lightning tried to diffuse it by redirecting the conversation. Why she felt the need to calm things, to reassure this outsider  _who she barely even knew_ , was beyond her logical comprehension, so she tried not to think about it.

"Your sister is a healer? That is impressive. My…my younger sister wanted to be a healer when she was little. But instead she's decided to be a teacher."

Recognizing the attempt to diffuse the situation, Fang told her muscles to relax. Based on their first encounter, if this woman meant harm, she wouldn't try to hide it around kind words. "Yeah, well, Vanille might be young, but she's talented. I just go with her to make sure that she stays out trouble out here in the wilderness."

"No hunting any wayward ugallu for you today?"

The glint in the azurite gaze betrayed Lightning's underlying amusement to Fang. She tried to counter. "And no stealing other hunter's kills for you today, either?"

Lightning shrugged, folding her vambrace-shielded arms across her chest. "I am not hunting. I'm on patrol."

Which brought back an older question on Fang's mind that begged asking.

"Are we on your lands?"

She could have seen Lightning's shoulders tighten from a mile away, and she cursed herself for not thinking fully before she spoke. "That is, I don't want to cause any trouble for you. Vanille and I were just looking for yellow Dragon's Tongue flowers."

"No, no," said Lightning, feeling a bit guilty now. "You're fine. Just…don't go any higher up than here. And if she's looking for Dragon's Tongue, there's a rocky outcrop about a quarter mile west of here, further down the slopes. It grows all over there. You can't miss it."

"Thank you," said Fang. She was genuinely grateful. Dragon's Tongue was hard to find, and Lightning hadn't needed to tell her that tidbit.

Suddenly, they both heard the movements of a person far off in the trees behind Fang, followed by Vanille's voice wafting through the air. "Fang! I'm ready to go! Where are you?"

By the time Fang turned back around to look at Lightning, the otherworldly woman was already moving away, back toward where she had presumably come from. Fang called out before she could leave.

"Wait, when can I…when will you next be down along here?"

Much to her own surprise, Lightning stopped, eyes flickering as she considered the request. Then, again for reasons beyond even her own understanding, she responded. "My next patrol here will be in four days time."

Then, much like last time, she disappeared into the forest before Fang could even move.

A few seconds later, Vanille emerged from behind Fang, brushing a stray leaf out of her orange-red hair. "…almost swore I heard you talking with someone here…Fang?"

The huntress looked down at her sister, not caring that her smile reached from ear to ear. "I saw her again."

She didn't need to say who.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun had not even yet risen when Lightning had begun strapping on her patrol armor. She ran through her mental checklist of everything she needed. Armor: check. Zephyr identification medal: check. Food provisions: check. Charged crystal for her weapon: check. Re-entry crystal: check. As she re-clipped her blade to her belt and prepared to leave, the soft padding of feet made her turn around before the voice did.

"Claire?"

"Serah. What are you doing up this early? You should go back to bed."

Her sister yawned at the mention of bed. While rising this early was no problem for Lightning, Serah normally stayed in until daylight had started. "Another patrol, Claire? You've been on so many lately. This…this isn't because of Snow, is it?"

Serah's eyes, the exact same hue and shape as Lightning's own, moved downward to stare at the ground with the last question. Lightning closed the distance between them, placing both of her gloved and armored hands on Serah's shoulders.

"Serah…" It was true. Lightning had been taking on more and more border patrol runs as of late. And though the original reason had been to find solace from the immanent reality of Serah's engagement, that was no longer the sole reason why she continued to volunteer for patrols. "No. This is my job, remember? It's what the Zephyr Guardians do."

Serah looked up at her big sister, pushing her point. "And Snow?"

Lightning sighed. Serah might seem more frail than her older sister, but she had long since learned how to press an issue with Lightning. "I have to deal with these things in my own way. Serah…I'm not ecstatic, but I haven't gone and invoked the Opinicus, have I?"

At this, Serah began to smile again. She did know how hard it was for Lightning dealing with the engagement, especially when she had to work around Snow in the Zephyr Guard, but it seemed as though she was starting to progress in accepting the eventual marriage.

"Alright, well, be careful, okay?"

Lightning placed a kiss on Serah's head, hugging her sister before moving toward the door. "I always am, Serah. Take care and I'll see you tonight."

Her wing-mantle fluttered behind her as she left the house.

* * *

Fang was always eager to see Lightning. Since that second time they had accidentally crossed paths, months ago now, they had fallen into a regular pattern of planned meetings. Lightning was not always in the area, nor was Fang always free to seclude herself on trips to the mountain, but by now they usually managed to make it work two to three times on a given week. It was almost funny how things had just fallen into place. Slowly but surely, they had opened up, finding an ease and enjoyment in each others' company that it seemed neither could find elsewhere.

And for Fang, there was an added benefit. She was not, as her father had first feared, traipsing off into the mountain forest several times a week in order to avoid the upcoming trials.

Fang had found a new method of training.

Fang had ended up telling Lightning about the Proving Trials relatively early on.

For all that Lightning came across as relatively terse and cold, she was surprisingly astute at picking up on Fang's moods. After they had begun falling into a regular routine of meeting each other, she had asked what was weighing on Fang's mind. Fang had at first bemoaned that her worry had been so obvious, but then had responded, rapidly explaining what was expected of her in the upcoming midsummer fair. With all of the pressure she felt mounting around her, it had in fact been a relief to tell someone so far removed from the Trials about it

Although Lightning had, at first, been uncomprehending.

" _So it's a contest. Just make sure you beat them into submission."_

It was surprisingly crude coming from so refined looking an individual. Fang had shaken her head, trying to better convey what exactly the Faultwarrens were. It was not, she supposed, the easiest of ideas to get at first.

" _The Faultwarrens is about more than just winning. There are strict rules. In order to win against an opponent, you need to either disarm them, or hold them at weapon death point. Even just drawing a drop of blood means instant disqualification. It's not about brute force, or crushing your opponent."_

" _It's about restraint and control," finished Lightning, now understanding. There was a huge line to be drawn between these Proving Trials and nearly any other form of combat._

_Fang's eyes sparkled, pleased with how quickly Lightning had picked up on the nature of the Faultwarrens._

" _So what do you get out of all of this? Why are you doing it? That is, it doesn't seem incredibly relevant to hunting."_

" _You mean besides the eternal honor and glory if I win?"_

_Lightning's eyes rolled at Fang's flippant answer._

" _Well," continued Fang, ignoring Lightning's silent response. "It will give both my clan and my village much greater status, in everything from trading to politics."_

_Light nodded slowly. She supposed that made sense. "What are your chances of winning, then?"_

_Now serious, Fang's smile faded. "In all honesty, not all too high. I'm young, and this is my first Trial. Not to mention, considering how different the nature of the contest is from hunting or normal sparring, it makes it difficult to train for."_

" _You can't train against your clansmen?" questioned Lightning._

" _I can and I do, but…it's not the same. I've trained with them all my life. I'm used to them. I'll be facing opponents using weapons and styles I've never encountered before. How do I prepare for that?"_

_Fang had been doing a great deal of thinking on the matter as of late, and realizing just how difficult a task was set before her. With summer barely two months away, her nerves were beginning to kick in. There were high expectations set for her. What if she didn't live up them?_

_Recognizing and empathizing with something apparent in Fang's demeanor, Lightning stood up abruptly, unsheathing her silver weapon, Blazefire. "Fang, I don't know anything about these "Trials" themselves, but maybe I can help you adapt to fighting something you aren't used to."_

_Fang looked up to catch Lightning's gaze. There was no mixing up what the Zephyr Guardian intended. "Lightning…are you sure?"_

_She smiled back, a smile that held pleasure, confidence and excitement all in one. It nearly took Fang's breath away. "Yes, I'm sure. And call me Light."_

Fang had no idea what she was getting herself into that day. Lightning's style  _was_  different, far different than anything she had ever seen or heard about. The woman was sheer speed in the flesh, jumping and twirling about in an evasive dance that made Fang feel like a half-dead Long Gui. But if she had been taken aback by Lightning's speed that first time sparring, Light had been taken equally aback by Fang's strength.

" _You're very strong," she had conceded after they were finished, stretching out her shoulder muscles._

" _And you live up to your bloody namesake," railed Fang, her pride injured with how difficult it had been to counter the blindingly fast attacks. Lightning, indeed._

_The clear laugh had taken her off guard. She had never heard Light laugh before, and it was a beautiful sound. "It wouldn't be a good name otherwise, now would it?"_

They had agreed after that to continue meeting on a regular basis when Lightning had her patrols so that they could spar. For Fang, it was immeasurably helpful in her preparations, and while she wasn't sure what Lightning got out of it, the other woman enjoyed the sparring, and made the valid point that as a soldier, she too needed to keep in top form.

Today, though, Fang was anxious. She wasn't meeting with Light to spar. After enough of Vanille's persistent pestering, she had finally gathered the courage last time to ask Lightning if she would be okay with meeting Vanille and helping them look for some rare herbs. The herb-searching part of the deal had been a cover; really, Vanille just wanted more than anything to meet this nearly mythical stranger who had been absorbing all of Fang's time. Fang had been as delicate as she could about broaching the subject. She wouldn't lie, while Lightning had become more and more open with Fang, she was afraid that drawing another person into the picture would chase the Zephyr Guardian back into the mountain peaks and into the fabled mists of time and legend. Lightning had been pensive when Fang brought it up; this was another outsider, another stranger. But she had seen Vanille from afar before, and she could not make herself believe—no matter what her teachings—that a younger sister to Fang would mean harm to her, at least no more harm that what she was already deliberately playing with.

So since Lightning had agreed to help them on an herbal search, that meant Fang was currently scaling up the forests with her bubbly sister in tow.

"…try to keep calm. Don't get too riled up…" Fang was in the middle of lecturing Vanille for the tenth time. But really, the last thing she needed was for Vanille to make Lightning regret saying yes to this entire endeavor.

Reaching the clearing at last, Fang saw the familiar figure already waiting there, one hand resting easily on the hilt of her sword. She pushed aside a chest level branch and smiled as Lightning greeted her.

"Took you long enough today."

Only Light would consider that a normal version of "hello".

"Remember, I did have someone in tow." Fang turned and ushered her sister forward. "Light, this Vanille. Vanille, this is—"

Vanille cut her off before she could finish introductions, darting forward to give her own greeting. "Oh, it's so good to meet you! Wow! You look exactly like what Fang described, and here I thought she was exaggerating. Your hair is so pretty! And that armor is so elegant! And, gods, is that really made from griffin feathers? Can I touch it? Can I?"

"Van!" yelled Fang yanking her sister back by the collar. "Sorry, Light." She threw another glare at Vanille. She had told her not to jump Lightning. "My  _sister_  gets easily excited."

"It's okay." In many ways, Vanille already reminded Lightning of Serah, though Serah was no where near as easily excited. "You can touch my feather mantle if you want. And yes, they're all griffin feathers."

Vanille approached and ran one hand reverently down the shining white garment. "There's so soft!" she exclaimed. "I've never seen a griffin before."

"There's not many left," explained Lightning. "Even in our aerie, we only have a hand full now. They say that before Eden fell, there were as many griffins as people, but I can't even begin to imagine that."

"Do  _you_  have a griffin?"

Fang wanted to cut off Vanille with her torrent of questions, but was taken aback when Lightning answered. "Actually, I do. His name is Odin, and I raised him since he was a chick. Of course, griffins live a long time. Even though he's twenty, he's still considered a child by griffin years. He'll probably be an adult by the time I meet my grave and return to the wind."

Fang found herself caught between intrigue and chagrin. What Lightning was explaining was amazing, but she found herself more than annoyed at the fact that while she was so careful with asking Lightning about her personal life for fear of making the woman clam up, Vanille could just barge right in and launch out questions without a care in the world—and get answers to them.

"Okay, we should probably get collecting, Van. What plants were you looking for?"

Vanille looked at Fang, easily reading the huntress' thoughts that preceded the sudden subject change. Regardless, she quickly rattled off a few names and descriptions.

Identifying a few that were in reasonable walking distance, they embarked out, Fang and Vanille following behind Lightning's knowledgeable lead.

Although they were all supposed to help out with collecting the herbs, by the time the had gotten on to collecting King's Hand bark, Fang found that it was primarily Vanille doing the searching and collecting, while she stood shoulder to shoulder with Lightning, barely a hands breadth apart as they watched the young Dia clanswoman go about her business.

Lightning watched Vanille closely, glancing to her side at Fang every now and then. After a few minutes of doing that, she finally opened her mouth to speak.

"She…" Then Lightning stopped whatever she was going to say, looking a bit self-conscious.

"Yes?" prodded Fang. "What is it?"

"That is, you two don't look very much alike." She finished with a slight flush, looking heartily embarrassed at saying something so personal.

Fang roared with laughter at that, not at all offended. She had forgotten to mention that to Lightning earlier, and wondered just how long the woman had been puzzling over the two sisters. "Vanille's my sister, sure as the sun hangs in the sky, but we don't share parents. We're sisters of spirit, I guess you could say, not blood; but we're still sisters. Gods know that she can still annoy the living daylights out of me when she feels like it."

"Ah. I apologize. Everyone says my sister and I look exactly alike." A small smile graced her features. "Serah knows how to annoy me fairly well, too."

"How old is your sister?"

Luckily for Fang, Lightning seemed to be in a talkative mood today. "Just three years younger than me. About Vanille's age." Then she seemed to think of something unpleasant, and her brow darkened.

Not wanting to fall back into silence, Fang decided to try her hand.

"Quick question." Fang had learned to be cautious in what questions she asked Lightning about, especially when her mood had fallen. Anything too personal, and the woman was likely to evade answering and not talk at all. This one, she thought, was fair game, though. "That blade of yours…why does it look so strange, like the hilt is supposed to do something else? Tell me, what does it do, 'cause I don't buy that it's just there for looks, not from someone like you."

"Forget an explanation." Lightning brightened again and smiled, taking out her weapon. "Better yet, let me show you."

Taking aim at a distant rock wall, she slid her weapon outward. Fang wasn't sure if she hit some skillfully hidden button or lock or some sort, but the blade instantly moved, folding back in a complex mechanism to reveal a glowing crystal near hilt. That crystal flared red before launching three successive bolts of energy down the length of the folded blade and into the rock wall. In the next second, Lightning had already pulled her weapon and transformed it back into its sword form.

"Not…bad," said Fang weakly.  _Bloody hell, will this woman ever stop surprising me?_

"Do it again!" cheered Vanille, clearly impressed.

* * *

When Fang and Vanille exited the forest and walked back out onto the plain, it was close to sundown. Vanille had been unusually quiet after they had parted ways with Lightning, but broke her silence once they were back in sight of the village.

"I like her," she stated. Fang glanced at Vanille, but she was still looking straight ahead toward Oerba, though with a small, secretive smile on her face.

Fang hefted her spear over her shoulder easily. "Do you now?"

"Mmhmm. I approve."

"Good to know. She's a good friend, in her own way."

"A friend? Mmhmm. For right now."

Little red-haired devil.

"You should invite her to the fair, Fang. Maybe even to come and watch you at the Faultwarrens."

Fang was about to protest. Lightning was always on patrol. Did they really think she would come off of her mountain for even a day? But then the protest cut itself off before she could even voice it. A month ago, would she have thought Lightning would agree to meet Vanille? And before that would she have thought the strange, legendary warrior would become her friend and sparring partner?

"You know what, Van? Maybe I will."


	5. Chapter 5

Even with her arms folded, Lightning drummed her fingers against the side of her bicep; she stopped every time she noticed what she was doing, but would start up the nervous habit again once her mind wandered.

She should not be here. She was taking enormous risks and she knew it. And yet, here she was, waiting for Fang and Vanille to rendezvous on the mountain side with her while the first rays of dawn crept over the Tarborean Range to strike the small army of multi-colored tents that had been erected in the plains below.

The week of the Oerban midsummer fair was in full swing. Caravans and travelers had at first trickled in before turning into a torrent of visitors whose numbers were surely greater than the village itself. The towering trees now obscured her view of the sea of tents, but she still shook her head thinking about them. There were so many! They stretched all across the grassy plateau.

She nearly jumped when a voice called out to her, and then mentally chided herself. If she was this easily snuck up upon, it spoke volumes about how anxious she was. She needed to calm herself.

"Light! You're here early."

She shrugged rather than replying as Fang and Vanille emerged from the trees. Both were wearing their usual clothing, though Fang had a large and obviously filled bag thrown over her shoulder.

"Ready to get going? Big day ahead of us!" chimed Vanille.

"Er…" Lightning was unable to form the right words. Her nerves were getting the better of her.

Fang tried to reassure her. "Don't worry, Light. Van and I have you covered. You'll blend right in with the masses."

"Here!" Vanille grabbed the bag from Fang and dragged a somewhat overwhelmed Lightning into the small cave behind them before she could regain her senses and protest.

Fang smiled and chose instead to lean against the rocky mouth of the cave, politely waiting for her two friends to emerge. She still couldn't believe that this was happening, that somehow she had gotten Lightning to agree to come down into the village for a day of the midsummer fair. It had taken a bit of skilled wheedling, but whether it was from curiosity or somewhat else, Lightning had ultimately agreed.

Of course, a valid concern had been how to disguise Lightning. Her looks were already foreign enough, but her armor would have stood out like a lighthouse beacon, even at an event so diverse as the cross-kingdom fair. However, Fang thought that she and Vanille had come up with an acceptable alterative.

"There! What do you think Fang?"

She did a round about to see an excited-looking Vanille standing next Lightning, but it was a very different Lightning than what she was used to. Vanille had decided on bringing clothes reminiscent of the desert nomads. They were swirling, loose garments of cloth, designed to be light and easy to wear, but to shield the entire body from the wind and the sands. Compared to the form-fitting armor Lightning normally wore, it was a bizarre change.

They had decided on a yellow and white color palette; billowing white pants and yellow sandals, a loose white tunic and a thick bright yellow sash. Lightning was currently busy with retightening the simple leather bracers that now decorated her arms. When she finished her fiddling she looked up at Fang, who had still not said anything.

"Well?" Her voice was low, trying to hide her apparent apprehension.

Fang thought she looked stunning. Granted, that was not the appropriate response at the given time. Trying to force her mind into a more objective state, she brought a hand to her chin and gave Lightning another quick up and down. Part of her made a mental note of the faint blush on her cheeks. She wanted to tease, but then a glint of metal caught her eye briefly. When she glanced to see what it was, she wondered just how she had missed it before. Around her neck, Lightning wore a torc. It was not just a small token piece of jewelry, but a thick, elegantly corded decorative twist made presumably of solid gold, easily worthy of a warlord or chieftain, not a young, delicate-looking woman. The knots on the torc were sculpted to be the heads of some sort of horned beast complete with tiny blue crystals for their eyes, the design clearly crafted by an experienced and talented jeweler.

She was about to tell Lightning that she needed to take it off, but thought again. Lightning was not stupid. The woman had willingly shed her Zephyr armor to don the robes of a common nomad. The torc was obviously important to her enough that she hadn't considered removing it. They would have to work around it.

"Hold on a sec. Van, what do we have left?"

Fang rummaged through the sack of clothing they had brought with them until she found what she was looking for. Stepping up to Lightning, she skillfully wrapped a long white cloth around Lightning's neck and over her head so that it became a hooded shawl, shielding the torc.

"There! Now it's perfect. You are the palest desert nomad I've every seen, but with the hood to keep your hair hidden away, no one should taken any notice of how exotic you actually are."

That much was true.

"Oh, I didn't even think of that Fang! Now we're all set. Let's go already!"

"Wait!" Lightning grabbed her Blazefire saber. Her eyes hardened to a look that brooked no argument. "I am not going anywhere without my weapon."

Fang and Vanille shared a knowing smirk as they both tried to placate her, Vanille already reaching for a leather belt to give the soldier. They had both expected this, thankfully.

"Hold on, that's no problem."

Once she had hooked the sword to her waist, Light felt marginally more at ease. It didn't matter what she wore. As long as she had Blazefire, she was fine. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Her armor and wing-mantle were already safely stowed away in the cave. There was no turning back now.

"Okay. I'm ready."

When she opened her eyes, she saw both of the Oerbans grinning at her, but her gaze focused on Fang as the enigmatic woman held out her hand in offering to Lightning.

"C'mon, Light. Let's go to the fair."

She grabbed onto Fang's warm and sure hand and let herself be let down the mountain.

* * *

The fair was a whirlwind of sound and motion. If Lightning not had Fang and Vanille at either side to help guide her, she would have surely been overwhelmed. There were so many people; so many, and all of them shouting and gesticulating, selling various foreign and bizarre goods that she had never seen or heard of before: foods, spices, amphorae filled with sweet oils and perfumes, weapons and jewels, tiny crystal-powered devices and clever toys. She had never imagined that the lowlands contained so many different cultures and people. It was almost too much for her. But she felt Fang's firm hand in her own, and it grounded her. She and Vanille weaved through the early morning trading crowds with an experienced ease.

"What would you like to see?"

Lightning did not even know where to start.

Fang gestured grandly to the myriad of open stalls and tents around them. She didn't need to hear Lightning voice the question in order to see her thought process. "Start wherever you want, Light."

The browsed over the setups and tables, and over a mere fraction of the endless array of goods. The amount alone was staggering, although her Oerban friends assured her that most of it would be sold by the end of the fair.

While Fang helped Vanille haggle over an imported bolt of fine silk, Lightning slipped toward a nearby stall, her eyes taking a variety of metal-worked objects that were on display, ranging from weapons to buckles and jewelry. Her eye was caught by one thing in particular.

It was a decorative gold armband, obviously designed for a woman. But the design was what intrigued her. It was clever and playful, a bird with its wings outstretched in mid-flight, feathers wrapping around the whole of the band; the entire style of the metalworking was different than anything she had seen before. She thought of Serah as she looked at the piece.

"Like what you see, missus?"

One of the stall workers had approached her. He had a distinct accent and wore brightly dyed cloths. "Haerii jewelers make some of the best pieces in the world. Which one were you interested in?"

Hesitant at first, she pointed at the armband.

"Ah, you have a good eye. This is fine work here. I expect it to be bought by the end of the fair."

Not wanting to bargain at all, for she didn't even know the proper protocol at the fair, Lightning dug into the small pouch she had wisely decided to bring with her. When she withdrew her hand, it held a gem in hand, already cleaned and diamond cut, a vibrant deep blue. She handed it to the stall worker for appraisal. "I trust that this should suffice."

The man nearly gaped at the pristine jewel, trying to recover himself. "Ah…yes, of course, my lady!"

He handed over the armband, greedily taking the gem in turn. But by the time he looked back up, ready to try and draw more money out of the strange nomad, the woman was gone, faded back into the ever-moving rush of people.

Lightning pocketed the armband back into her pouch and moved silently back behind Fang and Vanille just as they finished their unsuccessful negotiations.

"…okay, Fang. I can find a better deal than that later."

"Bloody thieves, some of these merchants are!" She had been so sure that she could have gotten the man to drop another twenty gil on the cloth. Taking a deep breath, she looked up at the sun before turning toward her companions. "Alright. I have to get going now. Check-in should be starting soon. Stick with Vanille, Light; she knows what she's doing. I'll meet up with you both after the Trials are finished."

She gave the best smile she could manage and turned to head toward the registration tent, but Lightning stepped forward and caught her arm before she could leave. Fang stopped, surprised.

"Fang, you won't need it, but good luck."

The huntress met Lightning's calm smile and felt herself grin uncontrollably. "That's the plan. Thanks, Light."

Then she took off in a brisk walk away from them.

Vanille tugged on Lightning's sleeve gently. "Come on. Let's get some food and then we can get our seats in the stadium."

The stadium was a vast sprawl of temporary bleachers, some with brightly colored awnings, and some open to the sun, all creating a great circle around the grass covered arena. That would be where all of the action took place. There were no structures or items in the stadium to be used as obstacles or shields by any of the participants in the trial; it was just flat ground. The Faultwarrens would be nothing but straightforward one-on-one combat, a test of martial skills.

Lightning entered the bleachers and took her seat next to Vanille as directed. They had stopped for some quick street food at a stall just outside, and took the time to eat once seated. The food was savory and spicy, filling the hole in Lightning's belly that she hadn't even realized was there. What exactly it was that she was eating remained unknown...some kind of skewered meat that the vendor had then stuffed into a flatbread before adding various sauces and vegetables. Whatever it was, it was delicious. Both she and Vanille polished theirs off in what felt like a manner of seconds. By the time they had finished licking their lips, the stadium was quickly filling up with spectators, and there was a rising buzz of upbeat conversation. Lightning looked around. Their section seemed to be filled mainly with Oerbans, and she worried briefly that someone might ask who she was, but her association with Vanille seemed to protect her. There was no further time left to worry, anyway.

The murmurs of the crowd immediately quieted as an announcer began to call out the commencement of the Trials, his voice augmented to carry over the stadium by a crystal sound amplifier. As he introduced the first two fighters, though, the crowd quickly began to cheer in excitement.

"When will Fang go on?" Lightning asked.

Vanille had to yell to be heard as the first duel started. "Her first fight is in four rounds, so it shouldn't be that long!"

Those four fights went by quickly, though Lightning observed them all closely, watching the each entrant. There was a whole range of ages and experience in the participants for the Trials. Some were veterans, and some were amateurs; one fight ended when a fighter accidentally drew blood. It was only the thinnest slash, barely even dripping, but it was enough. That fight was ended and the offender was disqualified and sent off immediately.

Soon enough, Fang was on for her first trial. She walked onto the grassy arena and jovially twirled her blood-red lance. Yet even as their section in particular cheered loudly, the Yun clanswoman did not even glance in their direction.

_Good_ , thought Lightning, grimly pleased. It meant Fang was focused, readied for her challenge.

The fight did not seem particularly difficult for Fang, though she kept her moves simple, direct, and controlled, with none of the flashy showmanship that Lightning knew from personal experience Fang was prone to. Granted, as soon the match ended and Fang was declared victor, the woman let out a raucous whoop and twirled her spear around in a complex victory move, making Lightning sigh and shake her head ever so slightly. Fang was utterly incorrigible.

Then she watched, confused, as Fang undid the knotted strip of blue and gold silken cloth that she had tied around her arm, hooked it onto the tip of her lance, and approached the bleachers, still waving and grinning at the now applauding spectators. Lightning had noticed all of the fighters wearing their own distinctly colored cloth strips, but had not understood what they were for. She still had no idea.

When as Fang reached their section of the bleachers, she halted. Using the length of the spear for added leverage, she reached over the wall of the bleacher and proffered the tip of her lance with the bright cloth directly toward Lightning.

Lightning stared, not sure of what to do until Vanille leaned over to speak into her ear.

"Take it," she urged. "You're supposed to take it."

Lightning reached out and grabbed the strip of cloth from the end of Fang's spear, and the crowd roared enthusiastically. Once the cheers had quieted enough for Lightning to hear herself again, she leaned over toward Vanille. "What exactly did any of that just mean?"

"Fang offered you her Fighter's Token. During the Trials, a competitor can offer their personal scarf band to a person in the crowd. Not every fighter does it. You usually give it to a close family member or a lover; it's a declaration that they fight for you. You're essentially Fang's Lady Luck for the remainder of the tournament."

"Oh," said Lightning. She was glad for the hood to shade her face as her cheeks flared into what she was certain was a brilliant red. Thankfully, if Vanille saw, she made no comments.

For his part, Oerba Yun Sol eyed the woman seated next to Dia Vanille with scarcely concealed interest. He was several rows behind them next to many of the other veteran warriors from the village. Like all of the other spectators, he had watched when Fang had offered up her Fighter's Token to this unknown woman, and had watched when (with Vanille's obvious counseling) that same woman had accepted his daughter's token. He was initially as surprised as everyone else, and then disappointed. During his time in the Proving Trials, he only ever offered up his Fighter's Token once, and that had been to Saerla. He expected more from his daughter than to rashly give hers away. But then he had become thoughtful. While Fang could be brash sometimes, she was not thoughtless. Who was this nameless woman that Vanille seemed to know so well, but that he, Fang's own father, could not even recognize?

As the next fighters commenced their duel, he heard the words of the mysterious woman waft up to him on the wind, reaching over the constant buzz of the other spectators.

"…Tonber warrior is too rash with his attacks. He'll over-reach himself and get disarmed before he can bring his swing back…"

Sol was taken aback. That was exactly what he would have said in assessing the two current combatants. As the fight progressed precisely as the mysterious hooded woman predicted, he found himself watching her more closely, studying the way she held herself even in her seat. With the baggy nomad clothes she wore, it was difficult to judge her physique, but now he had no doubt that it was muscular and well-trimmed; he noted again the partially obscured weapon hanging at her side. he was now certain that this was a woman who was very well versed in combat, and he was curious to know who she was. From his current angle, though, her hooded shawl shaded her face from him. All he could make out was a pale outline. He frowned with consternation at that. The nomads were known for their darkened skin, burnt from the harsh rays of desert sun day in and day out.

Unfortunately, now was neither the time nor the place to pursue his personal investigation.

The crowd went eerily quiet as the next set of participants entered the stadium. Slowly, a chant began to grow.

Lightning looked around, confused. "Vanille, what are they saying? 'Caius'?"

Vanille looked deadly serious, pointing out at one of the fighters, a tall, lean man with long dark hair and tight-fitting black and purple body armor. He wielded an absolutely massive and wicked looking sword with a surprising ease. "Him. That's Caius of the Ballads. He's of the Farseer Tribe located in Paddra metropolis. He's a legend—he's won four Faultwarrens in the last five years. The only reason why he didn't win last year was because he wasn't able to make it to the Trials at all."

Lightning raised her eyebrows at this bit of information, focusing back onto the man in question. His first fight was quick, efficient, and impressive. There was nothing dramatic to his style except for how quickly he ended it; he did exactly what needed to be accomplished, which was to win. As he exited the arena, Caius approached one of the far bleachers, undoing his own purple Fighter's Token from where it had been bound across his brow. The silken cloth was handed over to a petite, dark-haired young woman. Even from the distance, Light could make out a complex and glittering metal headpiece intertwined in her long, straight hair. For all that she was young, her cloths as much as her ornaments were of the highest quality and make. As with Lightning before, the crowd crooned and cheered as she accepted the token.

"That's the priestess Yeul of the Farseer Tribe. Caius is her officially sworn bodyguard," Vanille explained. Then she sighed deeply. "It's so romantic."

Lightning nodded her head as she was supposed to, focusing back on the Faultwarrens.

As the day wore on and the sun hung high in the cloudless sky, the number of fighters steadily dwindled. Fang continued to remain among the victors, securing her wins until at last she numbered into the final four left. When entered the arena for what felt like the millionth time, she barely registered how far along she was, that she had already met her goal of placing as one of the top contestants. At this point, she could only keep going.

And she did.

When the announcer declared the victor, Vanille turned to Lightning. Her light green eyes were wide. "I can't believe it! She made it to the last round! Fang's going to fight Caius! Oh, Lightning! Do you think she has any chance? Caius is so good, if she makes even the smallest mistake…"

It was a good question. Light pondered it as the two finalists took their places on the field. Caius was heavily favored, and with reason. Watching the fighters stretch and prepare, something came to mind.

"Caius  _is_ good, Van. But look at them. They've both been fighting all day. It's not a matter of who makes a mistake first—they'll both be making mistakes, I guarantee it—it's about who will be able to take advantage of the other's mistakes best."

The bell rang for the match to start, and Fang and Caius began to circle each other. Both were cautious, much more so than what either had been in the tournament thus far. The first attacks were lighter, testing the waters for any obvious weaknesses, any way that either of them could end the trial quickly. There were none that Fang could find.

Caius' weapon was large and heavy. She knew it make it that much harder to disarm him, not to mention it meant having close well into his personal reach. Her muscles felt so fatigued, she didn't want to risk a game of grappling or sheer strength against the man. Almost as though he could read her thoughts, the Paddran warrior swung what would have otherwise been a devastating downward slash.

Fang was forced to bring her lance up into a cross guard position to absorb the blow and felt both of her arms ring with the force of the impact. All of her muscles shuddered violently but managed to hold. She stumbled back while Caius prepared for another assault. Her defensive stance had protected her, but she knew her limits; another direct attack like that and it wouldn't hold.

Knowing that she couldn't win against Caius on defense, she switched modes and pressed her own attack against him simultaneously. Yet despite her attempts, she could not break his defense, let alone disarm him.

Both swung, and both evaded the attacks. Then Caius countered by swinging his weapon right back, aiming low to take Fang out by her ankles. Fang twisted back, but she knew she wasn't fast enough to bring her spear in place to deflect the blow. The sword was too low, and her lance was high, and she didn't have enough energy. But she had to do something, anything, or she knew she would lose. She tried to think of the Zephyr Guardian she knew, and how she effortlessly moved with the grace of the wind. Fang was not so lithe, but she could at least try.

"No way," whispered Vanille.

Lightning could hear the comment of disbelief clearly, for the entire arena had gone deathly silent. Fang's spear tip hovered a mere inch away from Caius' face. And as for Caius' great sword…it was pinned to the dusty earth, Fang's sandaled feet perched almost delicately on the flat of the blade. Both competitors looked about as stunned as what the crowd surely felt.

"Ladies and gentlemen," began the announcer slowly. "We have a new Titan: Oerba Yun Fang!"

At that, the crowd exploded into raucous cheering so loud that Lightning swore her eardrums might burst. The people flooded out of their seats and into the stadium, swarming the new champion.

Lightning was swept along in the furor, Vanille jumping and shouting with exuberance next to her as they joined the masses, moving steadily toward the epicenter.

In the middle of the throng of people, Fang now stood atop a pedestal that had been dragged out, already decorated with a mantle of flowers over her shoulders, and a crown of blue forget-me-nots on her brow. A wild and goofy grin was plastered across her face. Catching sight of Lightning in the crowd, she somehow managed to yell over the roaring din of noise.

"Light!"

People parted before Lightning, and hands, foreign and unknown, pushed her toward the center. Once at the pedestal, Fang hooked an arm solidly around Lightning's waist, pulling her in close and up against her. More than a bit overwhelmed with now being at the center of the attention, Lightning made no move to push away, instead remaining up against the Oerban victor.

Fang looked out at the cheering mob of people before her. She had done the impossible and made history today. She had become the youngest person in recorded history to win the Faultwarrens.

She looked to her right, to the woman she had snared in her arm. In the hustle of the crowd, Lightning's hood had fallen back, letting loose the twist of champagne-colored hair against marble skin. In the late afternoon sun, she sparkled like a vision of the goddess of victory herself. Though not a single drop of the alcoholic  _ushqui_  had passed her lips yet, Fang felt as happily drunk as the first night she had ever tasted the sweet fermented fruit juice.

"Light," she breathed, and the woman looked up her, their faces only inches apart. In the space of a heartbeat Fang threw all caution to the wind, closed the gap and kissed her squarely on the mouth. Fang only vaguely heard the deafening cheer go up around her again. Nothing had ever tasted so good to her as Lightning did in that moment.

As they parted, Light clung onto Fang's sari, very grateful for the support on her suddenly wobbly legs. "Fang…" she exhaled the name with her breath, suddenly too bashful to even make eye contact as her temperature soared and she blushed heavily.

After another minute, a set of officials were able to make their way to new champion. "Titan, if you would…?"

Still keeping Light against her, Fang stepped down from the pedestal. She and Lightning followed the officials through the ecstatic fans and out of the stadium, where they were led to a large striped tent. One of the officials, a tall, lean woman, held open the thick canvas flap for them. Fang reluctantly released Lightning and let her enter first before she followed.

"The greeters will begin arriving in ten minutes, Titan. If you need anything, please let us know. Titan. My lady."

The officials bowed to both Fang and Light and then left them to their privacy. For a tent, the inside was luxurious, with thick, heavy carpets decorating the floors and walls, dark stained wood furniture, and fluffy embroidered pillows.

Fang looked to Lightning automatically explaining. "When they say greeters, they mean the other contestants. It's tradition for the other fighters to come and pay their respects. Don't worry, though, it's usually pretty quick! Once we're through with acknowledging the contestants, they'll serve the big banquet feast. It'll be more food than you can ever manage to eat and enough  _ushqui_ to drown an adamantoise. It's once big celebration for everyone."

She was nearly babbling, but she could care less. Everything was perfect; the day had been perfect. And the smell of roasting meats was already wafting through the air. Fang watched as Lightning glanced back toward the tent flap before she turned back, her face now looking both apologetic and disappointed.

"Fang, I need to go. It's nearly evening." It was true. The sun had begun its descent toward the horizon line while they had been ushered to the victor's tent.

Fang wanted to ask her stay. More than anything else, she wanted Lightning to stay, just for the night, but even through the haze of euphoria, reality was a sobering dash of cold water. Lightning was a Zephyr Guardian, one of the Lost Tribe, hidden and secret until Fang had managed to blindly stumble upon her. She had her own home and her own people, who knew nothing of Fang and the Faultwarrens. She couldn't stay. And so the words died on Fang's lips before they were even given life.

"Fang…" Lightning saw the light in the newly crowned Titan's eyes dim significantly, and so she grabbed one of Fang's hands in her own, running a thumb gently over the callused and worked knuckles. "Enjoy your celebrations. You've more than earned them. I'll see you again."

"When?" she didn't care how desperate she sounded. All she cared about was when she would see her legendary griffin rider again.

"Next week. One week exactly from today. I'll see you then."

_But that's so long!_  They had gone longer without seeing each other, surely, but now, more than ever, it seemed like a single week would last ages. Fang caught herself from speaking. Instead, she plucked a forget-me-not from her Titan's crown and reached forward tuck it against Light's left ear. She took the warm flush that suffused Lightning's pale cheeks as a good sign and, gathering far more courage than what she had needed earlier, leaned in and kissed the shorter woman. This kiss was different that the quick one before the crowds. It was not so brash and reckless, but slower and more deliberate, yet surely just as intense for both of them.

Fang parted back from her, visibly blushing under her own tan. "One week," she repeated, like a mantra.

Lightning leaned back in a second time as response, returning the kiss. This time when it ended, they were both breathing heavily. Then before she could let herself be delayed any further, she replaced the hood over her head and escaped out the back flap of the tent.

Fang heavily released the breath she hadn't even realized she had been holding. Though she still looked forward to the entire night of celebrations ahead of her, she knew that her mind would only be focused on one thing, or one person.


	6. Chapter 6

For Fang, the week that passed seemed to crawl.

The days could not pass quickly enough, for all that she was busier than what she could ever remember. Throughout it all, though, the memories of the day of the Faultwarrens stuck in her mind.

The remainder of the evening and the night after Lightning had regretfully departed had still been enjoyable—the Victor's Banquet was an unparalleled celebration—but the strawberry-haired "nomad" had been all that Fang could think of. That had also been all that nearly everyone else could think of, as well.

She garnered more than her fair share of questions about the unknown woman whom she had given her Fighter's Token to, and then quite publicly kissed.

" _Great job with the whole helping her keep a low profile."_

Vanille had remarked that the day after, though there was no true chastising behind it. Fang had to admit, her initial plan of helping Lightning to keep her cover had really gone to shit, but she couldn't find it within herself to regret a single second of it. It really had all been impulsive. She had forgotten completely about the Fighter's Token until she had been designated with hers right before the trial. As soon as her hands had wrapped the band of silk around her upper arm, she had only been able to think of one person. When that first fight in the Faultwarrens had ended so clearly in her favor, in her excitement she could only commit to expressing that aforesaid desire. She hadn't expected to actually go all the way, to be crowned Titan. So when it had happened, when she had somehow managed to defeat Caius, her exuberance had gotten the better of her. Even so, she would have taken that same kiss a million times over; it had, in her opinion, been entirely worth it.

The downside had been the obvious consequence to such a public declaration of romantic interest. Even on that first night of the banquet, she had been bombarded with questions. In the following days after the fair ended and the visitors all packed and left again, many of her clansman and fellow villagers had asked, eager to know, who the strawberry-haired woman was. In a village the size of Oerba, it was nearly unheard of for not even at least a few people to know of any forming relationships, be they platonic or intimate, casual or not; exceptions were obviously with outsiders from the village, but for no one to know even the faintest clue about this woman…to say that the village was aflame with gossip was not an understatement. However, Fang was a bit experienced in redirection. Humor, a nonsensical response, no response at all—she used all and any tools at her disposal to keep from answering the dogged interrogations, and it worked, on all but one person at least: her father.

With him, it became almost a game of evasion. Since moving into her own place with Vanille, Fang didn't see her father as frequently anymore, but the village was only so big, and they were still part of the same clan, so it turned into a panicked job of making sure that she was busy or otherwise engaged at all times. Her father was not so bold or callous that he would call her out in public and ask, so as long as she could manage to be in the middle of doing  _something_  too important to be interrupted with other people, she was safe. Of course, the easiest method was just to try and avoid her father at all. Thankfully, her new status as Titan kept her more than busy so soon after the fair ended. More than enough hunters, warriors, and other clan members wanted her ear and her time. Thus, while she would have never normally been so generous with her time, she threw herself into hunts, demos, and whatever else anyone asked of her.

For his part, Yun Sol grew equally frustrated and perplexed. Never had he had so much trouble catching his daughter for a private moment; he knew that Fang was evading him, which only furthered his annoyance, as well as his confusion and his curiosity. Why was his daughter so irrationally set on avoiding the subject? He had barely anytime at all to spend with his daughter in the days after the fair. She was the center of activity in the town, celebrated and revered, and as such, everyone wanted a piece of her time. Sol was not so rash a man anymore as to publically question his daughter, though he was tempted to do so more and more with each passing day. But no, this was a private matter. And as such, when he found himself unable to spend even a single lone second with his daughter, he turned toward the only other member of their "family".

Vanille was minding her own business, returning to the modest flat that she lived in with Fang, carrying a bag of freshly picked fruits and vegetables, when she saw trouble heading her way. She had nearly reached the front door and was just starting to fish for her keys when she caught the unmistakable towering form of Oerba Yun Sol steadfastly making his way down the street. Almost automatically, she assumed that he was looking for Fang—silly, considering that she was out on a group hunt and wouldn't be back until late afternoon. Then she registered his intense hazel eyes focusing on her, and she knew she had to make her escape, and fast. A quick 180 degree turn, a few quick steps back, a left down the next street, and…

"Dia Vanille!"

Vanille stopped in her tracks, reluctantly turning around and trying to mask a guilty face with an overly pleasant smile. "Yun Sol! What a pleasure to see you! I was actually just about to…um…"

"I'm sure you were," rumbled Sol politely, only his single raised eyebrow conveying his skepticism. "I only need a minute of your time, though."

He placed a large hand on Vanille's shoulder to direct the young—and now miserable-looking—woman to walk with him.

"I trust that you have been well, Vanille, as I have not heard otherwise; but you'll have to pardon me for dispensing of pleasantries at the moment. I need to talk with you about Fang."

For all that Yun Sol was now a dignified, polite, and polished man, Vanille could see precisely where Fang had gotten her more direct nature from.

"Ah…what about Fang?" Despite her efforts, her voice came out with the slightest tremor of trepidation. She already knew where this was going, just as much as Fang's father.

"Do you really need ask?" He pursed his lips with light disapproval. "I have not managed even a single private word with my daughter in nearly a week. I have had no opportunity to ask her about the young woman to whom she so gallantly offered her sacred Fighter's Token to."

_Among other things_.

That went unspoken, though not unheard.

"Ah…the nomad?" asked Vanille timidly, feigning ignorance.

"Yes," confirmed Sol, looking pointedly at the small woman. "The nomad. Do you know who she is?"

Vanille looked away rather than meeting Sol's piercing golden gaze. The lack of a response was answer enough in itself.

"Tell me, Dia Vanille, how it is that you know more than I? I who am Fang's own blood and flesh father?"

Vanille wilted at first under the questioning. Sol did not speak harshly, but his words impacted her. Nonetheless, after a moment she slowly raised her gaze to meet Sol's, and her eyes were as equally firm and fixed.

"With all due respect, Yun Sol, isn't this a question you should be asking Fang? I mean, I may be her closest friend, but does it really seem right for me to be telling you these things in place of her?"

Sol opened his mouth to instinctively respond, and then considered the increasingly apparent wisdom of Vanille's words. For all that she was young, barely an adult, she had her surprising moments of insight.

He was more than curious. Sol was also slightly hurt by the fact that his daughter, who was so obviously pursuing this unknown woman, did not seem to trust him. But with Vanille's honest words, he reconsidered. He thought back to his younger self, when he was an arrogant and willful young buck, of all of the women he had run around with and when his heart had been completely taken by Saerla. Saerla had been different, had been so special. He had fallen completely for her, and even though she had lived in Oerba, Sol had been more than shy the first time he had brought her before his own parents. It had not been out of some fear or lack of trust, but simply because he had not yet felt entirely ready; he had been focused on himself and on Saerla, not on his, or her, parents.

He would give Fang some time, he decided. She was young and carefree still. He would not press her on the matter, at least for right now. After all, a parent could only hold back for so long before they had to poke their heads into their child's personal business. And like everyone else, he could only hold his curiosity in check for a given amount of time.

* * *

For Lightning, the week passed by in an all too rapid flash.

When she had finally gotten back home, late into the night, she had collapsed into a deep and exhausted sleep, waking up in the bright morning to the hazy remains of an already forgotten dream. She gave the armband to Serah; the work was so different and foreign that Serah, of course, asked where and how Lightning had gotten it, to which she already had an answer prepared.

"Abandoned caravan luggage on the mountainside."

It was not too much of a stretch. Sometimes small traders and caravans would traverse along the lower mountainside, presumably to save time or avoid bandits that could wait on the plains. That being the case, it was not always unusual for traders to encounter beasts in the alpine forests and lost goods or carrying animals.

Serah accepted the gift and the explanations, ringing thanks on Lightning that made her smile with pleasure. She was glad that she could still do something to make Serah happy every now and then. They had always been close siblings, but ever since Lightning had been fully knighted as a Zephyr Guardian they had grown more distant, and Serah's choice in her betrothal had placed a more palpable wedge between the sisters.

In the wake of her experiences at the fair, Lightning was at first almost bizarrely relaxed and happy. Even some of her bolder fellow Guardians commented on her initial good mood. As the week progressed, though, the fondness of memories began to fade. The butterflies that had danced in her stomach began to transmorph into something far less pleasant as she reexamined the magnificent city she had lived in her entire life, and as she reexamined her life thus far. She was highly respected, talented, and still very young, with a slew of expectations laid before her, none of which even remotely included Fang.

While Serah talked with her over wedding plans, Lightning's mind wandered as she tried to make sense of all of the confusingly potent feelings that swirled within her. She was used to being in complete control of herself and her feelings. When she felt something that did not suit her, she simply pushed it aside. She forcibly kept in under reign. Despite prevalent theories to the contrary, she was not an emotionless being. She felt just as much as the next person; she had simply learned through experience how to not let it rule her.

That had changed.

She glanced at the golden armband that Serah now wore on her upper left arm, and then back up to Serah's face itself. Her sister was still chatting on excitedly about what preliminary thoughts she and Snow had for the ceremony, a wide and lovely smile reaching across her features, but Lightning no longer heard a single word. For all that she did not fully accept Snow yet, Lightning had to acknowledge that the man was respected, capable, and honorable. And even more important, both he and Serah were utterly head over heels in love with one another. Was she willing to risk their—was she willing to risk Serah's—happiness for what was just her own current inclination?

Anxiety chewed away at her stomach, rapidly giving way to a harrowing sense of dread. What on earth had she been thinking all this time? Had she even been thinking at all? It did seem terribly hard to think straight whenever she was in Fang's company, but the woman's absence now allowed in the cold stab of harsh reality again. Fang was a lowlander and an outsider. Lightning was not only jeopardizing her own career and well-being by associating with her, but Serah's as well. Ignorance could not be used as a shield.

That night she polished her Blazefire to a shining silver, and then laid out her wing-mantle, staring at the ever-perfect white feathers. Not all of the feathers were hers—no individual collected so many griffin feathers in a single lifetime. There had always been at least one Zephyr Guardian in the family; this was the work of countless generations of Farrons, stemming well back into Eden.

Eden: the forever lost paradise of their forefathers, ripped from them by the treachery of those from beyond their own walls, jealous of the wealth and prosperity that the Edenians enjoyed.

Her fingers ran over the feathers lightly, savoring the indescribably soft touch. Her forefathers had sacrificed their honor-bound blood so that she and Serah could have their life and prosperity today. Could she wear their mantle and do any less?

Though a part of her cried out in pained protest at her newly decided course of action, Lightning ruthlessly smothered it as best she could within her chest. She had no time for misguided feelings.

She needed to act.

* * *

Lightning awaited by the mountainside cave with a certain measure of trepidation. She had arrived very early to their usual meeting spot, and it had taken all of her self-control to keep from pacing as she waited for Fang to arrive. Once the sun finally cleared all of the mountain peaks, the telltale rustling through the underbrush outside of the clearing alerted Light.

Fang carelessly tumbled out of the trees, a wild grin splitting across her cheeks as she slowed and laid eyes on Lightning.

Light felt her heart immediately and uncontrollably begin to pound at the sight of Fang's smile. A strong yearning pulled at her from within her chest. Even so, she mentally chastised herself. Her feelings were not the master of her, she was..

"Light," said Fang a second time. Lightning had not responded the when Fang had first called out to her, and as Fang approached closer, she took note of the knitted brow. "You okay?"

The question was said half-jokingly, but there was no response from the soldier. Fang stepped in until they were separated by only a few feet, now vaguely apprehensive. "Light?"

Finally, the other woman spoke.

"I don't have much time today. Look…" Lightning trailed off, her lips thinning as they pressed down with consternation. She turned away slightly, trying to find the proper words she was looking for, and trying to bolster her resolve.

For Fang, there was no denying it now. Especially compared to how Lightning had last been, it was as though she had taken one step forward and two steps back. She was more diffident and uncommunicative than what Fang could recall in months.

Now uncertain, she reached out to Lightning, grabbing the soldier's wrist with her hand. Lightning's gaze immediately connected.

As soon as Fang had laid the hand upon her arm, it was as though an electric shock ran through them both. Try as though she might to resist it, that single, unassuming touch melted all barriers between them. Within a second, Fang's mouth was crushed against hers. She wasn't even certain who had moved first, she, or the huntress. It made little difference. All thoughts fled from her mind at the despairingly sweet taste of Fang. How was it that anything could feel so good?

Fang gave a low, possessive growl after a minute and pulled Lightning's lower lip through her teeth, sending a wave of uncontrollable shivers through the soldier. Lightning had a bare moment to catch her breath and meet Fang's overly bright absinthe gaze before the huntress pinned her against the rock wall of the cave entrance and began to more intently explore her mouth.

Lightning yielded beneath her. Fang was sostrong; she had no chance of reversing their positions, and found that she had no desire to. Rather, she instead found herself angling her head and opening her mouth to tentatively touch Fang's tongue with her own, a small whine of pleasure escaping from her throat.

At some point Fang pulled back from Lightning's mouth, moved her lips across the elegant curve of Light's jaw, back toward her ear, and then down along her pale neck. Her tongue flicked out and she tasted the racing pulse that lay just beneath the skin. Lightning inhaled sharply in response, one hand tightening along the back of Fang's neck while the other slid down the exposed skin of her back that the sari did not cover.

She felt her legs easily slide against Fang's muscled thigh as the woman pressed up against her even harder. When one of Fang's hands began toying with the buckle on her chest-piece of armor, Lightning suddenly realized what they were doing, and where things were about to go; she realized how much she wanted Fang, how easily all of her resolve had crumbled with a mere touch, and it shook her to the core.

With a tremendous effort of will—for she didn't want to stop—she pulled her head away.

"Fang…" Her voice came out breathy and faint, not at all what she wanted. She inhaled deeply. "Fang, stop!"

This time she spoke strongly, pushing away the taller woman from her at the same time. It was not by any means a strong shove, but Fang stumbled backward, and made no move to come back in. Her eyes were wide with shock, confusion, and hurt, making Lightning's chest ache even as she steeled herself.

"What is it, Light? Did I—"

"We can't do this." Her voice was iron when she spoke, unflinching and unrelenting only from years of training.

It took a second for Fang to process what had been said. Surely she wasn't hearing correctly. "What?"

"We can't be doing this. Any of this."

It was a complete reversal, and Fang felt as though her legs had been cut out from under her.

"We can't…" she tried to repeat, but her tongue fumbled over the words. "Wha-why? Why are you saying this?"

"You don't understand," Lightning growled, clearly frustrated as she turned away. "You…you are an outsider. You're anathema. I shouldn't even be talking to you, let alone..."

She trailed off, blushing as she thought about how quickly and willingly she had pressed herself against Fang. The attraction was certainly not one-sided, if the way they had been progressing so quickly was any indicator. She tried to force her thoughts back on track before they could drown under her desires.

"So?" asked Fang. She was confused. Lightning was right. She didn't understand.

"It's not that simple, Fang. This…us…it should have never even happened. The day I met you up here…I know all too many others who would have killed you on sight for simply venturing too close to our land."

"But you didn't," Fang persisted. "You didn't, Light."

"I didn't," she agreed, her voice harsh and cold, even though she had acknowledged Fang's point. "But I should have."

The counter cut Fang to the core. Whatever she had been expected out of the day's rendezvous, it was  _not_  this. She had not wanted this abrupt and irrational reversal of positions.

"So that's it?" exclaimed Fang, still completely baffled, but now feeling the strong burn of anger surge through her to shield the hurt. "We just turn around and go our separate ways?"

Then she cursed, vehemently. "I like you, you like me, we've been seeing each other for months, and now you're telling me to just walk away because it doesn't conform to  _tradition_?" Her voice cracked at the end, much like the dam of emotions she was trying to hold back.

Lightning visibly flinched, but held her ground. "Fang…it's not that simple."

"Oh, screw you and your simplicity. You think that just because you live on a mountain and your people decided to be bloody recluses from the rest of the world that it makes you better than me?"

Light's eyes flashed angrily with pride at this. "My people only hid themselves to escape the war that the lowlanders brought upon us! Our civilization—"

Fang laughed harshly; she knew she was being mean, but she was started not to care. Lightning had started this below-the-belt fight, and Fang would be damned if she was going to just stand there and take anymore of it.

"Your civilization?" she mocked. "What is  _that_? Who's been open with whom, Lightning? I've shown you my people, my customs, my family. What about you? What do I even know about you, huh?"

The accusation stung all the more because it was true. Lightning opened her mouth for a sharp retort, but was cut off again.

"No, you know what? Screw this. And screw you. I've got better things to do than stand here and be toyed with."

Fang turned and stormed back into the woods, both seething and hurting more than what she could ever recall. She indiscriminately slashed branches and undergrowth out of her way, making no effort to be quiet or calm. The flora paid the price for the brunt of her wrath.

The first rule of a hunter…no, of any warrior, was to never let your emotions gain the upper hand on you. Allow yourself to fall victim to anger, pride, joy, sadness, and you could quickly find the tables turned on you as you inadvertently let your guard down.

Fang was so furious and so wounded inside that she felt nearly blind with emotion. Perhaps if she had remembered that first lesson of hunting that she had been taught so many years ago, she would have been able to see it coming.


	7. Chapter 7

Lightning sprinted through the trees as fast as she could, making no effort to be stealthy or quiet as she normally would. Speed was the only thought now.

About a minute after Fang had turned and stormed away from her, Lightning had felt the strong burden of regret start to build on her shoulders. This was not how she had wanted to settle things. There had been a plan in her head before hand, but everything about their conversation, if you could call it such, had quickly snowballed downhill. She wasn't sure how she intended to fix it, but ending it on such a sour note didn't seem right, especially when the back of her mind chided to her that Fang did have the validity of a logical point.

That had all changed even further when Lightning's keen ears picked up the distinctive distant screech of yakshas attacking their prey, coupled with a yell of surprise and pain that she would recognize anywhere. At that point, caution thrown to the wind, Lightning took off like a bolt from the blue, worry gnawing at her already frayed nerves.

A twig snapped across her face as she passed through a particularly think copse of oaks and found, at last, her dark-haired warrior.

Fang stood at the epicenter of a battle to which Lightning had arrived too late.

The fresh corpses of the towering bird-men—yakshas—littered the ground around her, though only one was still left standing. The nearly ten-foot tall avian fiend unfurled its rainbow wings and slashed at Fang with razor sharp toe claws. The Oerban huntress side-stepped the attack somewhat awkwardly, and then ran through the last remaining creature with her lance, finishing it. When she pulled her weapon free with a gross squelch, she turned to face Lightning. Her lips quirked upward in the characteristic cocky grin, but after wobbling for a moment, she fell to her knees, one hand pressed over her stomach as red liquid flooded over it.

_Blood. Human blood._

Lightning felt her heart momentarily screech to a terrifying halt. Then it raced back into pounding life as she closed the distance between them and dropped to the ground next to the huntress.

"Fang…" She could feel her eyes opening wide with dawning shock and horror. There were three shallow gashes along the Oerban's upper arm, but her gaze was drawn to the ripped fabric across her midriff, and the much larger slash across the flesh there. She reached out and firmly pushed Fang's hand aside so that she could see the extent of damage. After a long and silent minute, Lightning's eyes eventually made their way back up to Fang's unusually pale face.

Fang let out a weak chuckle of spiteful amusement. "Some Titan I make, huh? Not even crowned for a week before I—"

"Shut up!" Lightning half-yelled it, trying to push down the welling panic in her stomach as she assessed the increasingly dire situation.

Making a quick decision, she rustled through her leather belt pouch, searching feverishly until she found what she was searching for, pulling it free.

It was a large translucent green pill, nearly the size of a small bird's egg. Every patrolling soldier carried one of them in case the worst should happen. Lightning never had cause to use it on herself, and had always been slightly resentful of the enforced law that she needed to carry a private med kit if she was on patrol; now, she was unspeakably glad that they had such a rule in place.

Not daring to wait a second longer, she dug her thumb into the side of the pill. The gelatinous membrane soon gave way and broke, spilling a disturbingly phosphorescent viridian syrup onto her fingers.

"Wha…?" began Fang, as Lightning rubbed in the liquid to her open wounds. Contrary to the stabs of pain she expected to feel, everywhere Lightning applied the paste went numb very quickly, until she felt like she had a great hole of nothingness where her abdomen ought to be.

"It's an analgesic and temporary plating salve," explained Light. "It should slow the bleeding for now, but…Fang…"

With the oppressive pain now lightened from her mind, Fang was able to think more clearly. Her wounds themselves were by no means fatal, but it was the nature of them that made them dangerous. The talons of yaksha were coated in a potent poison—in fact, hunters frequently harvested the poison glands when they killed yaksha to coat their own weapons with it. The poison was a potent anti-coagulant, keeping any flesh that the yaksha managed to slash bleeding profusely instead of staunching.

Even with Lightning's medicine, the bleeding wouldn't stop, not until a healer or doctor could remove the poison. She needed help, and as soon as possible. She was not the only one to realize it either.

"Here," said Lightning, kneeling down and offering her back to Fang. "Get on my back."

"Light?" She must have already lost more blood that she realized, because she didn't understand.

"Fang," repeated Lightning, her voice urgent. "Please, there's no time."

Fang hefted herself onto Lightning's back, wrapping her arms and legs around Lightning so that she could be carried piggy-back style. She knew the soldier was strong, but she was still impressed with how easily the smaller woman was able to handle the extra dead weight of her body as they began moving through the forest.

"Wait…" interrupted Fang. They were moving even farther from Oerba, trekking steadily upward through the forest. "Where are we going?"

"Hush, Fang. You need to try to conserve your energy." There was a pause in her step. "I'm taking you to where I live to get you help. I'm taking you to Cocoon."

Even if she had been in a normal state, Fang wasn't sure she could have come up with a response, so instead she did as Lightning commanded and remained quiet, trying to understand what this all meant, and wishing, with a deep regret, that it hadn't taken such a turn of events for this happen.

Lightning, for her part, also remained silent, instead focusing on covering as much ground as possible and keeping her breath and heart rate even. She was able to ignore the burning pain in her legs as she continued to churn up the mountain; years of practice had conditioned her to overcome physical trivialities like that. What was harder to ignore was the steady press of sticky wet and warm liquid running down her back. It was blood, she knew, oozing through now and showing no signs of slowing down, despite the ointment that had been applied.

At some point, for Fang had lost all track of time as the sun dipped low in the sky, the trees began to thin, clearing completely as they reached a sheer and towering mountain cliff, stretching well over a hundred feet high and running as far as the eye could see in either direction. The jagged granite face was interrupted only by a single, darkened cave entrance. Lightning took a second to take a deep gasp of breath; she was panting for oxygen and dripping with the sweat of extended exertion. She shifted Fang's weight on her back before taking off toward the cave, uncomfortably aware of how the huntress' grasp on her had steadily weakened, and how there were no typical questions or remarks from her as they entered the cave.

Though the cavern was dark, the way was lit by the periodic exposed vein of glowing crystal. After walking a ways into it, they reached the apparent end, though Fang realized with a second look that it was no simple rock formation. The entire wall was carved flat, with a myriad of clever designs and pictures, culminating in two giant winged dragons facing each other along the halfway point.

Readjusting Fang's weight with one hand, Lightning reached out with the other, splaying her palm flat against the rock in between the two dragon's heads. The knotted torq at her neck flared into life, the jeweled crystal eyes fluorescing blue. In response, the opaque dragons' eyes on the carved wall suddenly flashed a corresponding blue, and lines of turquoise light erupted through the previously black stone, culminating in a bright vertical line down the halfway point. With a groan of effort, the solid rock slowly parted like a gate before them. Lightning quickly moved through as soon as it was wide enough, and the doorway closed thereafter.

However, instead of proceeding, Lightning gently knelt down and had Fang slide off of her back.

"Hold on," she promised. "I just need a moment."

Too worn to ask, Fang merely nodded as best she could and leaned against the side of the tunnel as Lightning approached the strange door again, this time reaching out to a specific carving on the side.

Fang tilted her head back. Though still dimly lit, she could tell that this side of the cave was different; instead of the rough and natural rock formation, this was a true tunnel, finely carved and smoothed out by some architect's design, with deliberate lines of crystal showing through here and there to show the way with their unearthly light.

Lightning's voice caught her attention and she looked toward the shadowed soldier again. Was she…talking to the rock?

_Great powers,_ thought Fang _, I truly am dying!_

"Snow, this is Lightning." It took a while for Fang to process that "Snow" must be a person, and to realize that the rock must have a crystal communication system imbedded in it. "I'm not your sister. Look...I need you at Dragon's Pass Gates. Now. No, I'm not kidding. This is urgent, so just get here. Ok...and thank you."

"Reinforcements?" Fang managed as Lightning walked back toward her. It was the most she had said in some time, and took far more effort than what she wanted to admit even to herself.

Lightning tried to smile, and felt herself failing miserably. "So to speak."

They had only to wait a scant minute before a large shadow appeared at the far opening of the tunnel, and then jogged toward them. At close range, Fang could see that the shadow was a hulking beast of a man. Standing over six feet tall, he had to be at least twice as wide as Fang, and wore thick, plated armor, complete with a feather cape similar to Lightning's.

"Lightning, what do you need..." He trailed off, gaze falling on the crumpled and beaten form that Fang was certain she must appear as by now. His eyes went wide as saucers. "Is that a-"

"By right of birth and of name, I am hereby invoking the Opinicus."

Snow's jaw, which had been gaping open with incredulity, snapped shut as his eyes swung back toward Lightning.

" _You're going to_ —"

"Snow!" Lightning didn't yell, but she didn't need to. Her voice, even so low, commanded attention. "I. Am. Invoking. Opinicus. Please, think of Serah."

Whatever that meant, it had an affect. The man visibly straightened, face now deadly serious. "I hear and listen."

Lightning let out a sigh, though from relief or sheer exhaustion it was hard to say. "Okay. I need you to carry Fang to my manor. Be as careful as possible—she's wounded. I'll lead the way, though. We're taking back streets. I don't want to run into  _anyone_."

The blonde giant of a man—Snow—nodded and then approached Fang. As he knelt by her, he took in the array of injuries gravely, assessing. He slid one arm gently behind her back and the other under her legs. His brow furrowed. "I'll try to make it as easy as I can, but this might be bad."

In one smooth motion, he stood and lifted her up into his arms, as easily as if she weighed no more than a child. She felt the world spin sickly around her, but there was no pain. Had she been more coherent, she would have seen fearful looks exchanged between the two Zephyr Guardians at her lack of response.

"Come on, Snow. Let's go." Lightning's voice was harsh, the gruffness hiding any other emotions that might otherwise seep through. They took off out of the rock tunnel and into a great open city. As they weaved through the streets and various back alleys, Fang could only just make out the sharp outlines of the great stone buildings around, their silhouettes lit only by the moon and the periodic soft crystal lamp glow. She felt so faint now, it was hard to actually focus on anything, whether it was her surroundings, the man carrying her, or the woman running in front of him.

When they reached Lightning's house, she slammed open the door to clear the way for them.

"Serah!" she yelled. "I need towels! Lots of them!"

The scurrying of footsteps was heard before a petite, young woman, a smaller version of Lightning emerged into the foyer. "Claire! Why are you yelling—oh my gosh!"

Her hand jumped to cover her mouth.

"Serah," continued Lightning. "Towels."

"Um, right!"

She ran back into the depths of the house.

"The master bedroom," Lightning now commanded to Snow, dashing ahead.

Snow nodded and made his way through a small labyrinth of richly decorated halls until they reached a large open bedroom with a massive oaken-carved bed. They had only to wait there for bare moment before Lightning and Serah reappeared, both laden with small mountains of towels.

The sisters pulled back the blankets and laid down a thick layer of towels before Snow placed Fang on the bed. Whereas Serah gasped at seeing the full amount of blood flowing, Lightning didn't miss a beat. She rounded on Snow.

"Snow, go get Doctor Estheim now. Invoke my Opinicus on him and bring him back as fast as you can,  _with_  whatever tools he needs."

Snow nodded and quite nearly ran out of the house. Lightning knelt beside the bed and placed one hand over the oozing stomach wound and the other against Fang's cheek.

"Fang, just hold on for me okay? Just a little bit longer now. Please."

The words were soft, nearly whispered, and spoken with a depth of emotion that was rarely heard from Lightning.

Serah closed and opened her mouth several times from where she stood by the bedroom doorway. It felt almost as though she was intruding. She was more that just a little confused and scared, but her intuition told her that this was not the opportune moment to start questioning her sister. So instead she opted to wait by the foyer for her fiancé to return with the doctor.

They didn't have to wait long.

Snow rushed back into the household, Doctor Estheim out of breath but still following right behind him, a dark leather case held in one arm. Only when the doctor entered the master bedroom did Lightning stand again.

To his credit, the man—who had known both Serah and Lightning since their respective births—did not bother with trivial dalliances.

"Nature of the injuries?" he asked, voice crisp and cool despite his sweating brow.

"Yaksha wounds. One in the abdomen, minor slashes on the upper right shoulder."

She stepped aside to let Bartholomew Estheim, respected doctor and councilman, more closely examine Fang. He pulled back the tattered sari cloth, hissing when he saw the poison-induced hemorrhaging. Then he looked at the lowlander's—Fang's—eyes, and saw the familiar unspoken question there. He smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry. You're going to be fine. I promise."

"Doctor?"

That was Lightning, her brow still dark with helpless fear. Estheim looked at her, and saw not the proud Zephyr Guardian, but the small child from over ten years ago.

"Claire, I need to be alone with the patient now. You need to let me do my work."

He then gently but firmly ushered the mistress of the house away. She may have called the Opinicus on him, but he was still the doctor.

Lightning found the thick wooden door closed in her face, and continued to stare uncomprehendingly until a different voice interrupted her.

"Sis," said Snow. "We can't do anything for now. Doc knows what he's doing. We just have to wait."

"I'm not your sister," she responded automatically, but there was no heart in it. She had nothing else to say. She knew that Snow was, for once, right.

So instead she paced the anteroom like a wounded beast, unable to rest or stop as she waited. After both Snow  _and_  Serah's insistence, she reluctantly accepted a cup of steaming hot herbal tea to try and calm her nerves, though she was more relieved when the two finally took their leave—presumably to go and talk—leaving Lightning to her solitude and her all-encompassing guilt in what had become the make-shift waiting room.

It was deep into the night when the bedroom door finally cracked back open to let the doctor through. Doctor Estheim was holding a bundle of bloodied towels in his arms, still wiping his own hands on them.

Lightning shot up as he approached and deposited the dirtied towels onto an empty chair.

"At ease," he said. He adjusted his glasses, clearly wearied. "She lost a lot of blood, but she should be fine. I extracted all of the remnant poison, and placed a healing shard in her shoulder, just to be on the safe side. She should be fully recovered within a week. She's also still awake right now, though for how much longer before the sedative knocks her out, I don't know now. So if you wanted to speak with her…"

He gestured toward the still open door from which he had emerged.

Lightning didn't need telling twice. She managed to murmur a sincere, if quick, thank-you before darting into the bedroom.

Once there, she slowed. The room was immaculate, with no trace of any of the doctor's work anywhere, except on the patient.

There was no blood, though. Fang lay prone on the bed, her eyes half-lidded and nearly closed, the sheets and blankets now pulled over her to cover her abdominal wound. Only the bright white linen of her shoulder wrap was visible, along with the faint green glow from the healing shard that lay beneath it.

Lightning approached and sat on the edge of the bed, being very careful not make the mattress shift at all. It was of little concern to Fang, though. Whatever medicine the good doctor had injected her with in order to treat her injuries had completely erased any sensation of pain.

She was glad for the haze. It wrapped her, surrounded her, and protected her, not only from physical hurt, but from mental and emotional turmoil as well. She was calm in her drugged bubble; she felt no urgency, and no need to question. She simply watched Lightning and let her talk.

"I'm sorry, Fang."

The whispered words were accompanied by a genuinely downtrodden and guilt-ridden glance. One hand was pressed against the mattress, close enough to Fang that, with a feeble twitch, she was able to half-grab Lightning's hand with her own, trying to convey her unspoken forgiveness. After a moment, Lightning gave her hand a squeeze back, and the smallest of smiles appeared on the soldier for a brief second before vanishing again.

She then detached her hand from Fang's and moved it up to first brush away a stray strand of Fang's hair, and to afterward begin slowly running her hand through Fang's silky locks. Fang felt her eyes begin to close as she succumbed to both the sedative and the soothing rhythm of Lightning's fingers moving across her scalp. She was so tired…

"I'll fix this, Fang. I promise. I'll get you home…I won't let them have you." Fang registered the hand moving now from her head to cup her cheek gently. She wanted to open her eyes, but they were heavier than mountains. The last thing she knew before the blanket of healing sleep covered her mind was the soft touch of Lightning's lips against hers.

When Lightning shut the bedroom door quietly behind her and exited back out through the anteroom and into the hallway, the doctor was no longer there, but someone else was.

"Claire."

For all that Serah was smaller than Lightning, she did a tremendous job of blocking the hallway, effectively trapping her sister where she was.

"Serah."

The younger of the two inhaled deeply, bracing herself before diving in headlong. "What is going on?"

"Serah, you don't need to know," Lightning began, but her sister cut her off, forceful.

"No, Claire. I know you're just trying to protect me, but you've already invoked the Opinicus, so it doesn't matter. And besides, we're sisters; y-you're the only family I have left. So, please, tell me, what is going on? And who is that woman?"

They stood opposite of each of, the tension palpable in a contest of wills. But Lightning was tired and worn. Too long had she been holding everything within herself, shielding Serah. She was too beaten to fight anymore.

As she opened her mouth to respond, they were interrupted by a sharp pounding on the front door. Snow and Dr. Estheim emerged from the kitchen, both looking worriedly at Lightning and not at the door.

"Claire..."

"Light..."

She inhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring. It was time to face the music.


	8. Chapter 8

Fang's eyes finally creaked open from their drugged and dreamless sleep. She had no sense of what time had passed since she had last been awake, and very little sense of her surroundings. She was in a large and particularly comfy bed, in beautifully decorated room complete with coffered ceilings and large, curtained windows. She was certainly not in her own home, or the home of anyone she knew in Oerba.

A low and rusty groan of displeasure at now being awake escaped from her throat. She had a strong headache from dehydration and who knew what else. She groaned again and asked aloud to the unforgiving world, "Where am I and where the bloody hell is some water?"

The sound of more than one set of feet shuffling into her room made her sit up as a vaguely familiar, masculine voice began to speak.

"There is a pitcher of water sitting on the bedside table next to you with glass for your use; it is currently late morning, and you are in the master bedroom of the Farron manor, where you've been sleeping for the last day and a half since you were brought here for me to treat your injuries. Do you remember that much?"

"Yes, Doctor Estheim," she replied, her memory somehow quickly pinning a name to the middle-aged, silver-haired man who had approached her side. She did not, however, recognize the two armored and silent guards who hung back by the doorframe. Of course, their closed helmets and large crystal guns indicated to her that not only did she likely not know them, but that they likely had no desire to get to know her either.

"Excellent! You even remember my name, too!" The doctor looked genuinely impressed. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to check and see how my handy-work on you has progressed."

She  _did_  remember, hazy though some of the events were. She remembered the argument between she and Lightning, the attack of the flock of yakshas, and of Lightning bringing her here—to Cocoon: the secret city of her people. She looked around her room again, now more curious than when she had first awoken. Her study was cut short as the doctor began his examination of her, though, gently pushing up the shirt that covered her abdomen.

He skillfully undid her wrappings, checking the wounds on her stomach first. Fang was stunned to see that the injury was nearly healed, with the shiny, pink skin of scar tissue showing clearly against her darker skin.

"You said I'd been sleeping for only a day and a half?" If she sounded incredulous, it was for a reason.

Estheim chuckled kindly. "You had some help."

He then undid the linen binding on her right arm fully, pulling out a small sliver of green crystal. Fang didn't need him to say what it was. "A healing crystal?!"

Healing crystals were rare. Almost all known deposits of healing crystals had been used during the Great War, and while any respectable settlement or city still had their own collection, use of them was nearly unheard of, given their limited supply. Had she been  _that_ bad?

"Just to be on the extra safe side. Though I do apologize for the mark it's left behind."

He tapped her shoulder where the gem had been wrapped, and Fang looked down to see not only the now darkened scars from her yaksha injuries, but also a bizarre, white pattern that looked almost burned onto the skin of her arm below her shoulder. She could see the center of her new make-shift tattoo, where the healing shard had presumably rested, and a multitude of sharp white lines branching out from that epicenter.

"A trade off if you will."

"No," Fang interjected, humbled by all that the doctor had done for her. "I owe you my life, doc. The least I can say is thank you."

Apparently satisfied with the state of his patient's recovery, Doctor Estheim pulled back and stood, shaking his head with a sad smile. "Don't thank me, young woman. I'm not the one who brought you here for care."

Which brought up another point.

"Where is Lightning? I'd like to see her."

Her question, though honest and innocent enough, provoked an interesting response. The two guards whom she had momentarily forgotten both visibly shifted on their feet, re-gripping their crystal guns. For his part, Doctor Estheim looked down and away, un-wanting or unwilling to look at her any longer. As the question hung heavy over the silence, Fang regarded her bedroom a third time, viewing the luxurious surroundings now no longer as an unheard of guest suite, but as more of a potentially gilded cage.

"I'm afraid you cannot see Lightning right now, nor am I at liberty to say when, or if, you will." The doctor spoke slowly and reluctantly, clearly upset with his own meager response.

"Councilman." The muffled voice of one of the guards cut off any potential further conversation.

Doctor Estheim sighed heavily and walked to the door, both guards now flanking him. "Your designated guard should be here momentarily, Fang. I do hope that we are able to see each other again. Until then, you'll have a new caretaker to…"watch"…over you. Goodbye, Fang."

He bowed his head and then walked out of the room, the two guards carefully following him. As soon as the trio had exited room, she saw another set of guards take their place outside of the door, leaving little room to interpret what "watch" implied.

She had only a scant few seconds to gain her bearings again before her momentary solitude was again interrupted. This time, two more guards, both bearing only small feather-mantles, took their place at the doorway, while a large, dark-skinned and smiling soldier marched into the room, a tray in his hands and a feather-cape trailing from one shoulder.

"Oerba Yun Fang…pleased to meet you. I'm your new "jailer", so to speak." He plopped down the tray of steaming food onto the bedside table, and then pulled a chair up close to the bed and promptly gestured toward the tray. "Eat up, now! You're going to need your strength, after all."

He pointed at the warm food again and smiled encouragingly.

Despite her inner turmoil, her stomach growled audibly, upset with not having a good meal in far too long. She almost begrudgingly gave in, moving the tray atop her lap and digging in to food, though she kept a scowl on her face.

"At least one of us is sure in a good mood," she muttered darkly around a mouthful of bread.

The man laughed, not with any hint of cruelty, but with brief, genuine humor. "Someone has to be."

Then he shook his head, his gaze sobering. "I'm sorry; I wasn't entirely sure what to expect out of you, but you certainly exceeded whatever those expectation were."

Now both confused and mildly worried, Fang laid down her utensils. "Um…excuse my manners, but who the bloody hell are you?"

"Right. I'm Captain Amodar, First Order of the Zephyr Guard. I was Farron's, pardon me,  _Lightning's_  commanding officer once upon a time when she was a freshly minted private."

Fang jumped on that before she could even think. "Then maybe you can finally give me some answers about what exactly is going on?"

Much to her surprise, the man—Amodar—folded his arm and nodded slowly. "That's right…Doctor Estheim probably wasn't allowed to give you any details, correct?"

Fang could only nod in acquiescence.

Amodar looked at her with a mix of pity and something else. "Well, I am under no such orders, and I have long tried to keep an extra eye out for our wayward and uptight Farron. Fang…to put it simply, Lightning is being put on trial."

"Just for helping to save my life?" she blurted out. How was that fair at all? Fang had been the one who had stupidly walked into the fiends' ambush, and now Lightning was being persecuted by her own people for keeping Fang from bleeding out?

"You have to understand, by the old laws that  _is_  a crime, of the highest order, bordering on treason in some circles. And yes, before you ask, it is because you are an outsider. Our laws and customs may seem frivolous to you—and, indeed, there are many here who question them and push for change—but at the end of the day I would caution you to remember that we are still founded upon correcting the mistakes of our fallen predecessors in Eden. Our forefathers secluded us for a reason. To willingly violate those standards is a grave offense that cannot be without consequence."

Fang felt her brow knit in worry, burning away any of the latent affects of either sleep of drugs that still remained. The gravity of the situation was not lost upon her, though she only just began to comprehend the magnitude of what had been set in action. A few things were very clear to her, though.

"So, I'm stuck here, aren't I?"

"I'm afraid so." Captain Amodar smiled deprecatingly.

"And Lightning? Doctor Estheim? The others?"

"The doctor won't be put on trial, nor will Sergeant Snow, nor will Lightning's sister Serah, nor anyone else connected with saving your life."

"Why just Lightning, then?" She was baffled. Why was Light being hung up as the target? Yes, Lightning had brought her here, but Estheim had been the man to actually save her life.

"Because Lightning invoked the Opinicus."

He was greeted with a blank stare.

"Ah, right. Let me explain…Opinicus is the word in the Old Tongue for "griffin", and is a right that all of the greater houses possess. It is a blood honor, given to the loyal houses. For each generation, if the most dire of needs should rise, they may be allowed to invoke the Opinicus. The Opinicus allows them to command whomsoever they ask of, to do as they wish without question or fear of consequence. Only the man or woman who invokes the oath may bear the burden of what their actions and oath call."

"So a person could just go and call on this…"Opinicus"….thing and have people do whatever they want?"

"Ah, then you understand the power and potential for misuse behind the oath, I see. That's why only the oldest and most honorable of families are allowed the privilege of it; the last time the Opinicus was used was in the evacuation of Eden. Had several houses not invoked it to take command and help families escape…well, then all of our forefathers would have likely died before ever even dreaming of Cocoon. It is, perhaps, for that memory, that the tradition of the Opinicus had been allowed to persevere."

With all that Amodar was revealing, Fang was struck more and more by not only how little she understood, but—with her dawning comprehension—just how much Lightning had been sacrificing for her.

"Surely," she began, having to pause to swallow and wet her throat before continuing. "Surely, I can't have been the first…"lowlander"…that a Cocoonian was involved with. I mean, Light and I…you can't tell me that in over a hundred years, no one has ever spoken with someone else outside of these city walls?"

The officer rubbed the stubble on his chin while leaning back into his chair. After a moment, he responded.

"You're right, of course, but the "solution" to it has usually been…less than savory. The last time someone was found having unauthorized contact with an outsider would have been, oh, about thirty years ago. I was still a kid at the time myself."

"What happened?" asked Fang. She had to ask, to know.

Amodar met her gaze squarely, his own unreadable. "They were both put to death for treason, by executive order of two-thirds majority of Senate. No trial."

Fang was unsure what expression was on her face, but the military captain quickly continued, trying to calm her somewhat. "That won't be the case this time, though. It's going to trial now for several reasons; in part because the debate over our isolation has changed in recent years. There is now more of a movement than ever to end our isolation and begin contact with other outside people. Of course, it is also in part because of Lightning's position as a military officer. Normally, any dishonorable conduct within the military branch would be handled by the military commanders, but because this situation is so prominent and delicate, it has been decided that a trial will be held instead. That's why you should keep eating up. I'll be taking you to the first part of the trial. In fact, if you are done, we should get going now."

Right. The huntress set aside the mostly eaten food tray and very gingerly pushed herself up and out of bed. Much to her surprise, while she still felt tired and somewhat weak, her wounds seemed otherwise healed from her treatment. It was a pleasant realization as she flexed her abdominal muscles and felt no accompanying pain.

Seeing that Fang appeared to be hale and ready, Amodar approached her, pulling out a pair of metal handcuffs and looking resigned as he asked for her hands.

"My apologies."

Fang chuckled bitterly even as she held out her wrists for binding. "Why? I  _am_  your prisoner, after all."

Had her eyes not been downcast, she would have seen the way Amodar's lips twisted downward into a frown. "Because it's all more than just a bit distasteful. And because it is more for show than anything else. The cuffs are not necessary."

He sighed and shook his head, as if he had lost some internal argument with himself.

"Sir?"

The polite question came from one of the two guards at the door.

"Alright, alright. Let's get going."

Amodar led the way out of the silent Farron household with Fang in, the pair of guards flanking their rear as they passed into the main streets of fabled city of the Lost Tribe.

Her nighttime excursion through Cocoon was barely remembered by Fang, and most of what she could recall was only the vast shadow of the man called Snow arching over her as he had carried her to safety. In the daylight, though, she was presented with a very different impression.

All around were buildings of glistening white rock. Some, like the small mansion they had just emerged from, were literally built out of the mountainside. However, every structure seemed to be carved of the same stone, no matter where she looked.

And everywhere there were crystal powered lamps, crystal-operated doors, locks, comm. systems, and more. It nearly made her jaw drop. She thought back to how Dr. Estheim had used a rare healing shard on her arm, and wondered just how rare or not such shards were considered here.

"Where do you get all of this crystal? Did Eden have such a large amount that you could salvage?"

"Cocoon happens to sit on top of a nearly untapped crystal deposit. Our information on the lower world is rather outdated, but we still have reason to believe that we have one of the largest crystal supplies in the region."

_Undoubtedly_. Fang had been to the big cities before, and while they were certainly advanced, and some were certainly  _larger_  than Cocoon, none of them had the sheer amount of abundant crystal everywhere. If Cocoon had actually kept in contact and trade with the rest of the world…well, they would have made quite the enviable fortune in trading crystal alone. Fang shook her head to try and clear her thoughts from the awe that had temporarily clouded them. There were more pertinent matters at hand, and she was reminded of them every time they passed anyone on the street.

While there were some individuals like her current captor, Amodar—which was to say, darker skinned, with dark hair—nearly everyone she had seen was of the same marble hue as Lightning, complete with a full array of pale hair, ranging from blonde and orange to platinum and silver. It was striking, and Fang felt all the more like an outsider for all of the blatant stares she attracted as she was escorted through the streets. For the first time in a great many years, she felt uncomfortable in her own skin.

Most people seemed to be headed in the same direction that they were, and when they rounded a corner, Fang laid eyes on their final destination. At the end of the street was a great plaza, punctuated by a large, column-decorated and domed building. Upon the very top of the dome flew a large golden standard: a white griffin on a gold field, twinkling and flapping in the early afternoon sun.

But while the everyone seemed to be entering the building through a large, main gate, Amodar escorted them away and to the shadowed side of the building, to a small and inconspicuous door guarded by two more guards.

They wore the same gear as the two soldiers who had escorted Doctor Estheim earlier, and though Fang and her own guards were too far away to fully hear what was being said, she could catch the undertone of an irritated exchange between the Amodar and the gate guards. After another minute and the flashing of some badges, the discussion seemed resolved, and Amodar ushered Fang and the other two Zephyr Guardians in through the doorway. As they passed the gate guards, Fang didn't need to see through their helmets to know that they were glaring at her.

"Tch. Idiots." Catching Fang's inquisitive glance, Amodar explained as they walked. "Those were men of the Borealis Watch—you'll note their different uniforms from us, the Zephyr Guard. Cocoon has both the Watch and the Guard to protect and enforce the law, but there's more than just friendly rivalry between our two groups. A few strings got pulled to make sure that you would be under my—and the Zephyr Guard's—keep. Consider yourself lucky you weren't stuck with the Borealis."

There was no appropriate response to that, so Fang didn't deign to come up with one. Instead, she nodded silently and continued to follow Amodar's lead up through a winding staircase until the emerged into a private balcony box that looked out over the vast arena of an interior amphitheatre. Rows of seats ringed the circular interior below, many of them already filled with people and the loud buzz of conversation. Fang had never seen such a massive and grand trial hall before, and said as much.

"I forget," said Amodar, bowing his head lightly in unspoken apology. "You are an outsider."

Fang had a feeling that this was going to continue common response, so she tried to bite down her irritation.

"This is the Grand Amphitheatre. It is from here that both Senate and the Council govern over the people. And at the moment, it is being used for the public trial."

In the central clearing of the amphitheatre, an ornate wooden desk had been erected. The dark structure was easily long enough to seat at least five people behind it, though currently there were four stately and serious-looking individuals seated behind the paneling.

And directly across from them at her own bench, sitting still as a stone and encircled by soldiers, was Lightning.

"Easy, Fang." The weight of Amodar's hand on her shoulder kept her in her seat; she hadn't even realized that she had begun to rise.

"You said you wanted to better understand what is going on. Well, that panel of people down below, Fang, is the Council of Regents, or at least most of it," intoned the Zephyr captain. "They will be the ones to decide Lightning's—and in turn, your—fate. In the absence of a monarchy—which has been since the loss of Eden—the royalty is replaced by a Council of five regents to rule and legislate alongside the senate. You can see there at the back of the amphitheatre is the raised marble throne for the king and queen. No one has ever sat upon those seats since they have been erected. We have always had the Council in place."

Though it was difficult, she tore her gaze away from her precious Zephyr warrior and back toward the panel of "judges" in the center of the ring. Fang studied all four of them carefully. They were two women and two men, two relatively young, and two looking old and wizened.

"Well, what are the odds right now, huh?" Fang prodded, grinning despite herself. If Amodar had told her so much this far, he might as well let her know what she, and Lightning, were up against. "Who are these Regents of yours, Captain?"

Amodar raised his eyebrows at Fang's brazen tone and then laughed and shook his head. He gestured back down to the Council before beginning.

"The young woman on the far left is Jihl Nabaat."

The individual in question was one of the younger members on the panel. She had long, unbound pale yellow hair that fell well below her shoulders, and her pale and delicate face was framed with glasses. Though others on the panel were dressed more ornately than her, her clearly military-cut, dark blue overcoat was gilded and decorated with a heavy array of medals.

"She is the high commander of the Borealis Watch. Needless to say, that means she has an inherent dislike for the Zephyr Guardians, who have to traditionally taken the glory role of defenders of the people, even though they act as soldiers, while the Watch are the police force. There is no lost love in this, and I don't doubt that that woman takes a certain degree of pleasure in being on the judging panel to decide Lightning's fate."

Amodar made a sound of disgust before moving on to the next person on the bench, an older man wearing a small fortune in cloth of gold and white silk robes.

"The man next to Nabaat is Galenth Dysley."

Dysley was old, with wrinkled features and short but kept hair that was white with age. For all of his apparent age, though, his eyes were brightly fierce with cold anger. Fang shivered slightly.

"Dysley has been on the Council for over thirty years, and it's said in some private circles that he helped Nabaat to gain her position. The man is staunchly conservative, and has spear-headed the movement to keep the isolationist policies alive. He is probably the single most influential politician in the whole of the senate and Council, and has never looked kindly on the lowlands or outsiders."

Fang had only a moment to gulp apprehensively before the Zephyr captain continued.

"The second, older woman on the panel is Alyssa Zaidelle. Her husband served in the Zephyr Guard, and two of her children are both still enlisted. Although Dysley has been on the Council the longest, Alyssa is a close second. She is fairly impartial, though decidedly more liberal in most of her rulings than, say, Dysley."

Alyssa sat perfectly upright as she skimmed over the papers in front of her. She appeared to be about the same age as Dysley, though unlike her compatriot, she wore almost startlingly simple gray robes, nearly the same shade as her graying blonde hair. Fang was not sure what to make of her—she only hoped that Lightning stood a better chance with her than she did with the Borealis commander. That left only one more figure at the panel to consider.

"And the last man there on the right is Cid Raines, high commander of the Zephyr Guard."

"He looks like a bit of a pushover," commented Fang before she could even catch her tongue. It was true, though. Cid wore fancy, decorative military robes, though his were the white color of the Zephyr, opposed to the blue of the Borealis. That, combined with the relaxed and almost disinterested pose with which he held himself, irritated Fang. Here, one of his own fellow soldier's lives was on the line, and he couldn't even manage to look awake for it?

"Don't be fooled by looks," chided Amodar. "Cid is a brilliant strategist and earned his commanding rank for a reason. He is very impartial as a Councilman, but no doubt is viewing this with a certain measure of trepidation. Cid has always looked after his soldiers, and Lightning and he have always been well-acquainted."

A sudden though crossed Fang's mind as she surveyed the Council members again. "Wait, captain, you said that there were five people on the Council of Regents, but…"

Amodar laughed, causing her to fall silent.

"You've already met the fifth regent, though you probably didn't realize it; the Fifth has unfortunately been relieved due to their own intimate involvement within this trial, though."

Fang's jaw hung open.  _No way._   _Lightning's the…_

"Doctor Estheim, who patched you back up."

Fang closed her jaw again, feeling silly. That made much more sense than Lightning being a regent. Though, to be fair, both Raines and Nabaat were young, too.

"In true honorable form, he has chosen to recuse himself because of his own personal involvement in the case, though it does put the panel in curious predicament of possibly having a split outcome…"

Amodar trailed off, his brow furrowed as he clearly began going through various scenarios in his head. Not wanting to yet think about that herself, Fang spoke up.

"What about that other man, then? The one who's standing in front of the Councilmen right now?"

Though he was also a young man, surely only a few years older than Fang, he had pure silver hair, pulled back into a small, brusque ponytail. As he turned his head briefly, Fang caught a glimpse of a ghastly white scar running down his forehead, and of a mercilessly stern brow that seemed to match in line perfectly with his clean cut and somber black military uniform.

Amodar made a non-committal indicating neither approval nor disregard. " _That_  is Lieutenant-Colonel Yaag Rosch. He is the designated Interrogator of the Court for this trial, it seems."

Fang need only give her watcher a helpless look before he began to explain. "For this trial, the Council will have designated a speaker for them to question Lightning—the Interrogator. In  _theory_ , the Interrogator represents the interests of the whole of the Council, and his job is to impartially extract and determine as much information as possible for the Council, so that they might see the whole of the story."

"But in practice…?"

Amodar shook his head slowly. "Always politics. Rosch is a good, dedicated man at heart—there is not a single man or woman who would doubt that. But he is part of the Borealis Watch, as well as Jihl Naabat's right-hand man. Impartial…? I doubt it. But given connections and sympathies of Cid and Alyssa with the Zephyr Guard, I also doubt that they much power to do aught but accept Rosch as Interrogator with Naabat and Dysley's vote behind him."

Fang tried to desperately to wrap her head around the sea of information that Amodar had proverbially tossed her into. She thought again of what she had been told before, of the last incident of contact with an outsider than had been punished.

"When…" her voice came out ragged, harsh. She swallowed and wet her lips before trying again. "When will they call on me?"

"Well, I was told to bring you here in the case that the Interrogator should choose to question you and your account of events. Granted, I highly doubt that will happen today, if at all."

"Oh?"

Amodar smiled, though there was only so much mirth in it. He spoke the truth. "Because then everyone would see that you're a human like the rest of us."

"But then, why all this?" persisted Fang. "If everything was decided so…quickly…last time, why this huge trial and discussion now?"

Not that she was complaining; it apparently gave them both a marginally better chance at escaping this with their lives.

"Because she's not just anyone, she's a Farron."

Fang stared blankly.

"Oh, right," started Amodar again, looking sheepish. "Sorry, I forgot—"

Fang cut him off with a wave of one cuffed hand. "S'okay. Just…what exactly does that mean?"

Amodar stared down at the center of the amphitheater, at Lightning. "The Noble House of Farron," he began, pensive. "It, House Raines, and House Villiers, were the only Noble Houses to survive the fall of Eden. In the Golden Days, Eden housed not three, but eight Noble Houses. During those past times, when we still had the monarchy, the royalty wasn't continuous; it was elected. And it was from these Houses, after the royal monarchs passed, that the new King and Queen would be selected by the senate. So you see, the Houses were not simply nobility, they were potential royalty. However, of the original eight, though, the other five bloodlines were extinguished alongside the glorious city."

Fang stared long and hard at form of Lightning sitting below. Despite the magnitude of her "crimes" that she was about to be judged upon, she appeared infallibly calm. Her back was straight, and her attention was perfectly focused on the panel of Councilmen before her. Looking at her champagne hair and porcelain skin—even among the crowd of fair-hair and fair-skinned people—Fang could not help but think of how what Amodar had said made intuitive sense. With her refined features and stinging pride, Fang could easily see Lightning as the product of nobility. At the very least, it certainly explained why such a young woman owned a veritable mansion. It also made Fang feel a bit intimidated. Just who exactly was Lightning Farron?

"So you see," continued Amodar, oblivious to the thoughts running rampant through Fang's head. "She stands a bit more in the limelight than your average citizen to begin with. And the whole history doesn't help much either."

"History?"

This time Amodar looked a bit guilty, as if he had said too much. "Ah…I don't know how Farron would feel about me talking over her personal history with you…"

"It's common knowledge here, though, right?" A few days ago, Fang had known next to nothing about  _who_  Lightning was. Even given their current predicament, or perhaps because of it, she could not deny her curiosity, not when the information was being dangled in front of her.

"Right…" Amodar seemed to agree reluctantly.

"I'm just trying to understand better. Please, Amodar?"

It was the sincere truth, and her honest appeal struck a cord with the officer.

"Oh, all right. You  _do_  have a point." He shifted and looked off into some unknown distance. "Let's see, it would have been almost sixteen years ago now…Lightning was only five at the time, as was Snow, and Serah would have been two. I was a young private at the time myself, newly minted and fresh out of the academy.

"As I said before, there hadn't been an elected monarchy since the fall of Eden, but the desire has always been there. Well, sixteen years ago, it became more than just a desire. After being put to a vote by the senate, they decided to reinstate a monarchy, and the Council of Regents was to decide who from among the Great Houses. The decision, of course, was not an immediate thing; the Council decreed that it needed time to determine the best candidates, as all Houses seemed equally viable.

"And while initially it seemed to be a very close tie between the houses, it became increasingly clear that the Farrons were favored for the Council's nomination—something that did  _not_  sit so well with House Villiers, who had a long-time rivalry with House Farron."

"So what happened?" asked Fang. Her throat was dry, and she feared she already knew where this was going.

"Treachery and betrayal of the worst kind. Both of the Farrons—Eloise and Mattieu—were suddenly struck down by seemed to be a terrible wasting sickness. They were dead within two days of falling ill. It was Dr. Estheim, however, who realized there was more to it. He was the one who was able to pinpoint that they had been poisoned, and not sick. And in the subsequent investigation, the poison and money trail pointed pack to the Villiers. They were quickly tried, and then put to death by the law, leaving not only the Farrons as orphans, but also their own son, Snow." There was a momentary pause, perhaps out of remorseful reflectance, perhaps simply as the man caught his breath. "After that, any hope of reviving the monarchy died, as least for as long as we're alive. Anyway, as the oldest of her house, and with no other close living relatives, Lightning became not the heir of House Farron, but the head, all only at the age of five. She's lived most of her life trying to re-forge her name and her sister's out of the shadow of her parents' deaths. And no one can deny her laurels. She excelled through the Zephyr Guard, achieving knighthood at only age twenty. There was even a period for quite some time where everyone thought that if there was going to be a match between any two Houses, it would have been between Cid and Lightning. A Raines and a Farron, both of them honor-proven and sworn into the Zephyr Guard, and with one already sitting on the Council…it would have been the closest thing to a prince and princess wedding. But that just never seemed to pan out. Cid and Lightning respect each other for their talents certainly, but the romance never seemed to be there. Instead, of all the things, it's been Serah and Snow—a Farron and a Villiers. Considering all of the bad blood between them…well, let's just say no one saw that match coming, not even Lightning herself. What can you say? You look at them, and that is the definition of love birds, not afraid to go against the grain of society." Amodar stopped and looked back at Fang, his gaze astute and measuring. "Of course, at the end of the day, perhaps Lightning has actually one-upped her sister."

Though she was rarely embarrassed anymore, Fang felt herself fidget under the captain's knowing gaze. Her rescue, however, came in the form of the loud echo of a gavel banging on wood. The buzz of the crowd briefly rose before settling into silence.

"Wha—?"

Amodar made a shushing sound before whispering, "Quiet. They are about to open the trial."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, criticisms, and reviews are always welcomed!
> 
> Please read and enjoy!

"Lieutenant-Colonel Yaag Rosch, of the Day Watch of the Borealis, appointed on this day as the Interrogator of the High Council of Regents."

The court scribe turned toward the Council. "Is this true?"

All four regents bowed their heads and spoke simultaneously. "By our will."

"So let it be. Interrogator, fulfill the task for which you have been chosen."

Rosch nodded politely to the scribe, and grabbing a stack of papers, turned his full, icy attention toward Lightning. He took two long, hard strides toward her before coming up short.

"State your name and rank for the records."

Lightning met Rosch's pale glare with her own clear and proud gaze. "Claire Farron, first born of Mattieu Farron and Eloise Farron, Second Lieutenant of the First Order of the Zephyr Guard."

"But you are also known by the alias "Lightning", is that correct, Claire?"

Lightning's gaze sharpened into her own glare, not to be toyed with. For a moment it was easy to forget that she was the one on trial and being questioned. "Yes. And I  _prefer_  Lightning. If you will."

The long scar across Rosch's face ticked ever so slightly as he clenched his jaw muscles with vexation. Then he relaxed again, putting out a reassuring, if blatantly false, smile. "As you will… _Lightning_."

He did not immediately resume his interrogation, though. Rosch instead opted to idly flip through several sheets of information in his hand as if browsing, though he had already memorized everything pertinent to the young woman sitting before him. For all that they had never had close interactions, he  _knew_  Lightning Farron, far better than what the younger woman could suspect.

Yaag didn't come from one of the Noble Houses; he didn't even come from one of the many Lesser Houses either. His family stemmed from a long line of lowly craftsman, artisans, and engineers. They were undeniably respectable professions, but not ones that lauded great recognition and fame. Generation upon generation of Rosches had lived in anonymity throughout the history of both Cocoon and Eden, dedicating their lives toward the people in their own silent way. But Yaag had chosen differently than his father in how to serve the greater good. He had been the first to enter the military academy and choose an alternate route.

Even now he remembered. When he had been a child, he had always dreamed of joining the military ranks, mesmerized by their sparkling medals, stern gazes, and unwavering loyalty to the great people of Cocoon. The image was forever fresh in his mind. He had followed that dream, joined the military academy and worked with his very lifeblood to get to where he was today. There had been no easy road laid before him, no legacy of past family members, or prestige of bloodline that had granted him easy entrance to the military ranks. That had been one of the reasons why when he had graduated—only just a few marks behind the marvel soldier Jihl Nabaat herself—he had chosen to go to the lesser followed Borealis Watch instead of the Zephyr Guard.

It was hard, often thankless work, particularly within the Borealis Watch, which was always overshadowed by the flashy and glory-seeking antics of the Knights of the Zephyr Guard; and yet, he regretted not a single moment of it. He was proud of all that he had done, of the choices he had made, and he never doubted that he had earned every last title and medal handed to him. It was not without reason that he was now the second-highest ranking officer of the Watch.

He also remembered the first time he had seen Claire "Lightning" Farron, perhaps more clearly now than in years. Growing up, a high noble such as Farron would have never crossed paths with a commoner like Yaag, but in the Academy at least, all social ranks dissolved. Rosch had first seen the noblewoman when he was already a commissioned officer in the Borealis Day Watch, and Farron had just joined the Academy.

When he had laid eyes on the young recruit he had known immediately who she was. It was hard not to with all of the stories and tragic fame surrounding the Noble House Farron, and the Head of House Farron was the spitting image of her traditional bloodline: pale eyes, ivory skin, and the strikingly peculiar shade of hair. For only being in basic training, it at first seemed to the then-sergeant that a disproportionate amount of acclaim was being attributed to the delicate-looking young woman. Already the higher ranking officers were betting on how quickly she would rise through ranks, on what specialty she would go into, all with her only a recruit still, not even blooded yet.

However, after careful study he had admitted to himself even then, that the attention paid to the strawberry-haired young noble was not without merit. He had watched, with a begrudging sense of respect, as the knight-to-be threw herself into her studies and her work with the same ferocity and dedication that Rosch himself showcased. That respect, though,  _was_  always given begrudgingly—for Lightning was still a noble, and for her, there was no decision to be made; she would automatically be inducted into the ranks of the Zephyr Guardians, be knighted and don the feather mantle of her forefathers and follow in the footsteps of all of those before her.

That said, her record since graduating the Academy and actually wearing that feather mantle was spotless, at least until now. Ringing praises, top recommendations, all stemming from a thorough and committed work effort. Even as a noble, her reported accomplishments did not come without reason. Among the Zephyr Guard, Lightning Farron was a nearly perfect soldier and young officer, a rising star. Even he had to admit, he didn't understand why a talented noble like Farron had chosen to so suddenly and sharply depart with her duty—both as a Knight-Guardian and as a Farron.

"You have a very impressive record, Lieutenant," observed Rosch aloud. He had deliberately switched to using her title instead of her name. He glanced up after a moment, but his subject remained stoic, so he continued. "Very impressive. By all means, a nearly exemplary record both in the Academy and while serving in the Zephyr."

By now, a single eyebrow had risen on Light's face, and she opened her mouth. "Is there a question in any of this, Lieutenant-Colonel?"

He took a long moment to reorganize his papers before bringing his eyes up to lock gazes with the young officer. "I was simply wondering how an ideal soldier like you ends up in a position like this."

Lightning bit back the automatic urge to respond, "Well isn't that what you're supposed to find out?". Rosch was baiting her, and she knew it. She was never exactly reputed for having the best tether on her temper, and if the Interrogator managed to make her break her cool, it would destroy what little chance she had of spinning this entire fiasco in her favor. With that in mind, she steeled away her rising irritation behind the cold mask that she had learned to don so easily. No question had been asked of her; she opted instead to wait, staring almost patiently at Rosch, only the slight quirk of a single eyebrow betraying anything of her mood.

The silence dragged out for a long moment. Where other, lesser men would have ground their teeth in frustration, Yaag Rosch felt something much different flicker into life within him, causing him to yet again re-evaluate the young woman seated before him. For all of her youth, Farron had not seized the casual challenge he had tossed before her. So, for all that people might say of the young head of House Farron, she was not needlessly impetuous or rash. She would be a worthy challenge for him even here in the courtroom, outside of her natural element of physical battle. He knew, though—oh how well did he personally know—that to become so well honed physically required a similar mental finesse. So perhaps this challenge was not all that surprising in the end. To win in this battle of wills would require far more than usual.

Rosch gave a patient, seemingly didactic sigh, explaining himself before the full audience. "You, Lieutenant Farron, are here today to answer for your nigh treasonous actions of allowing an outsider within our sacred sanctuary of Cocoon. How do you answer for bringing the person known as Oerba Yun Fang into our ranks?"

Lightning held her head unflinchingly high, refusing to shy away. "I brought her here to receive life-saving medical treatment as she was gravely injured in my patrol region on the mountainside. And if you doubt the seriousness of her injuries, you can consult Dr. Estheim, who treated her."

The potential concern was waved away. "The Council had already taken it upon themselves to investigate other involved persons. The doctor does correlate that he treated the outsider."

He rifled through his papers again. "The report states that you conscripted the doctor through oath to treat the lowlander, and Sergeant Snow of the Zephyr Guard as well."

"Yes," replied Lightning. The man had still not asked her a proper question.

"And what of your sister?"

Now Lightning's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What  _of_  Serah?"

"Are you telling us that none of them, not even your sister, knew anything of this? That she had absolutely no prior knowledge of anything until you just happened to barge back in to your home with this outsider in tow?"

" _Yes_. Neither Serah nor anyone else knew anything, as I'm sure they have told you and the Council during your prior… _investigations_."

"I see." He paused then. "And what of your prior knowledge?"

"Excuse me?"

Rosch sighed as spoke patiently and slowly, treating Lightning as if she were a young child. "Was or was this not your first encounter with the outsider Oerba Yun Fang?"

Lightning took the moment to first inhale and exhale, preparing herself. "No, it was not."

The crowd, which had been relatively silent up until now, erupted into conversation. Regent Dysley leaned forward from his seat, his face a scowl of stern irritation. A gavel banged loudly from his hand, echoing over the audience.

"Order!" His voice was gravely and booming, the very impression of a taskmaster. "There will be order in this trial!"

The rush of conversation immediately quieted back into silence.

"Continue, Interrogator."

Rosch bowed to the panel in acquiescence before turning back around toward Lightning.

"You say that this was not the first time you encountered this Fang." Quickly, almost imperceptibly, Rosch's ghostly glare flickered up to the high and shadowed balcony where Fang sat, flanked by her guards. Just as quickly, his attention was returned to the dishonored Zephyr Guardian before him, and no one seemed to have caught his momentary lapse except for Fang herself. "When did you first encounter her then, Lieutenant?"

"It was…nine months ago," Lightning admitted, somewhat weakly. She was being cornered now, and she knew it. The panel of regents did not bother to hush the quiet whispers of the audience this time.

"Nine whole months," mused Yaag, his eyebrows raised. "You knew this barbarian for nearly a year? Hid her from your own people for a year instead of silencing her?"

"That was not the case!" she railed. Rosch was twisting her words, which she had expected, but it still infuriated her. This was not impartial—it was a damned witch hunt. She had to fight it, but she had to be smart. A shaky breath exited through her flared nostrils. Then she spoke, this time calmly again, her voice controlled. "Standard protocol mentions nothing on eliminating any outsiders encountered while on patrol. It is left to the discretion of the patrolling guard."

"And your discretion was to just let her go? That is, before you decided nine months later to bring her back?"

"When I met Fang, she had wandered up the mountain in pursuit of game,  _not_  in some perceived,  _farcical_  malicious attempt to breach the gates to Cocoon. I am not a cold-blooded killer, Interrogator, and our Code does not promote meaningless death. Our forefathers and founders were a people of  _honor._ "

More than just a few heads in the crowd began to slowly nod in assent, and Rosch took notice of it. It only highlighted just how much the political climate had changed. While it was true that it was never explicitly stated anywhere that interacting with or helping an outsider was treason, only a mere generation or two earlier, it was the unspoken law. In complete honesty, Rosch himself did not have a particularly strong opinion on it. The severe isolationist policies enacted by the founders were somewhat outdated, and the thought of re-integration with the outside world did not seem entirely unfounded to him. However, that was a separate issue not to be decided by a simple military man like himself. At the end of the day, opinions aside, Lieutenant Farron had placed herself above the law—be it unspoken or not—and sowed the seeds of chaos by doing so.

He raised his hands in defense, as if to indicate the validity of her argument. "Honor is of the utmost importance, of course. But while you used you discretion, you have admitted even now that you chose to remain silent on it. You admit to remaining silent and using your singular intuition to judge the complexity of the Code of Honor versus the security of Cocoon?"

"I  _said_ —"

"And you admit to knowingly fraternizing with and bringing an anathema lowlander into the sacred walls of Cocoon, thus jeopardizing the whole of the populous whom—I must remind you—you have sworn by your very rank to protect?"

"All that I admit to is helping a dying woman on the mountainside rather than leaving her there to a more dire fate. The last time I checked, it was standard good will to help a fellow human in need, not a crime."

The whole of the floor could see Lightning's eyes flash crystal blue. Her voice had not risen greatly, but it was tight with guarded and angry emotion as she waited for the Interrogator to make his next move.

"Then why, Lieutenant, did you invoke the Opinicus?"

Rosch nearly hissed the question, and much to his pleasure, Lightning was unable to form an immediate response.

"Because I needed to get her help as quickly as possible." The argument did not sound as strong as she would have wanted, so she furthered it, voice gaining power. "Say what you will, Rosch. She _needed_  dire help. And I did what was needed—no, what was  _right_ —in order to make sure that she lived."

"Even if doing what you "thought" was right would ultimately risk the safety of your people…no, of your own household even?"

Lightning instinctively tried to protest; hadn't they already gone over this? She would  _never_  jeopardize the safety of the people of Cocoon, of her sister. "It wasn't like th—"

"It wasn't like that?" retorted Rosch. "It  _wasn't like that_? Then what  _exactly_  was it like, Farron?  _What was it like for the past nine months?_ "

Cornered. Her mouth had opened, but she had no immediate response for once, so instead her mouth moved soundlessly for a brief second, but the Interrogator seemed to not even be interested in a response at this point. He spoke without even thinking, blurting out the first, baiting and spiteful thing that struck his mind.

"I daresay, if I didn't know better I would say you seem rather  _besotted_ with this huntress of yours!"

Contrary to everyone's expectations, there was no immediate retaliation from the proud Zephyr Guardian. Her jaw visible clenched and her brow darkened, but a flush of pink colored her cheeks. Was it from anger, or somewhat else? It made even Rosch pause, wondering if his quick, almost careless barb of an attack was actually more on point than what he knew. The thought alone took him aback, and his pale eyebrows knitted together in temporary consternation. He had done what was necessary, and found he no longer had the taste to continue with his work completed. The rest lay in the wisdom of the Council now. He turned his back to Lightning, and slowly walked back toward the Council, pointedly ignoring the poorly-masked wave of intrigued conversation that flooded the whole of the audience. His stack of papers landed roughly atop the wooden desk before he uttered the words, "I submit my Interrogation to the will and judgment of the Council. I have no further questions."

With that, he bowed politely to all four regents and exited to take his own seat in the first row of the amphitheatre.

Fang fidgeted in her seat, but stilled upon a cue from Amodar. They waited, in painful silence, as the four regents turned inward and conversed heatedly, their voices too secluded and private for any to overhear. What could have only been a matter of ten minutes seemed to drag on for painful hours. At long last, the four parted heads from their huddle, leaning back into their chairs.

Nabaat—the apparent spokesperson for their body—stood, speaking into a crystal sound amplifier to let her voice carry over the whole of amphitheatre. "The Council regrets to inform that we are unable to reach a majority consensus at this time."

If the sour look on Galenth Dysley's face said anything, it was that he felt something significantly stronger than regret.

"As such, we remand the defending party back into guarded house arrest until we reconvene tomorrow to announce the decision of the Council."

She inclined her head ever so slightly and then stepped down from the panel, leading the way for the rest of the regents toward a private back entry door near the vacant marble thrones.

Immediately, raucous conversation broke into life as the audience stood and began to file out of their seats to leave.

"What's that mean?" demanded Fang of Amodar, though she already knew.

The captain motioned for her to rise and guided her back toward their private stairway exit. "Means that, with there being only four of them instead of the usual five, they're stuck on a split decision—likely Dysley and Nabaat on one end, and Alyssa and Cid on the other. They're adjourning so that they can discuss it more among themselves and ideally reach an agreement by the time they resume tomorrow."

This time as they descending the stairs, the two Zephyr soldiers led her, while Amodar brought up the rear. Fang had to crane her head backward to address the officer. "And what if they can't reach an agreement?"

The older man shrugged nonchalantly, but his face was still grim. "Then we'll find out from there."

The walk back was quiet.


	10. Chapter 10

Lightning walked down one of the many long hallways of the Justicar compound that was attached to the backside of the amphitheatre. She had a full attendance of both Zephyr and Borealis soldiers to guard her, though she did not have to suffer the indignity of being cuffed or chained. Her Blazefire had been confiscated for the duration of the trial and indictment, but she was allowed to walk without being bound at least.

A door ahead of them opened and Cid Raines entered the hallway, flanked by two full knights—the regent and commander's own personal escort.

Lightning's group stopped short as he approached, all of them, including Lightning, flashing a quick salute.

"High Commander!"

"At ease. I would like to have a word with Lieutenant Farron. A private word," he clarified.

While the Zephyr warriors who were guarding her assented immediately, the Borealis watchmen shuffled uncertainly.

Cid gave them his trademark stare. It was not a glare, per say, but it was unblinking and unnerving, commanding attention. "The last I checked, Lieutenant Farron was not found guilty of anything, and she was an active member of the Zephyr Guard, of which I am the high commander. Unless the Borealis Watch as a whole has gained new powers over my Guard that I was not aware of…no? Very good."

The Borealis watchmen reluctantly retreated with their Zephyr brethren to give the commander and their prisoner the requested space.

Now alone with his subordinate, Cid dropped some of mask that he normally wore. He rubbed his temples tiredly, and Lightning knew just how stressed that indicated he truly was.

"Lightning," he began. "You know just as well as I do how split things are right now. Jihl and Galenth—"

"Are out for my blood," Lightning finished. It didn't take a genius to deduce that.

"Demanding it, nearly. Alyssa is far more reserved; she liked what you said today—about goodwill and honor—and she remembers your outstanding service record nearly as well as I do."

"Cid?" They were beyond the formalities of rank now.

He sighed and folded his arms. "No doubt Galenth and Jihl will be pressuring Alyssa tonight to side with them. If this draws out longer, we'll likely have to pull in the Senate for a vote. That's what I'm hoping for. It gives you more time to win over more of the populous. Prepare yourself, Lightning. I'll be pushing hard for you to get more time to tell your side of the story, so make the most of it. Don't let Rosch bait you again."

He placed a hand onto Light's shoulder and squeezed. "I must go now, but be well and be strong. We'll be in touch."

With that he departed, no doubt returning to his deliberations with the Council for the night, and leaving Lightning in the dubious care of her guard.

* * *

Amodar led Fang back into the Farron residence, into one of the first sitting rooms in the vast and silent mansion. There he removed the bindings she had been forced to wear for the greater portion of the day.

"It's been a long day for everyone, Fang. Try to get some sleep tonight, and then I'll be back tomorrow to collect you and move on to part two of the fireworks."

"Wait, you mean I'm not getting thrown into jail? What about the guard pair I had earlier today?"

Amodar winked at her. "We can still pull a few strings here and there. We managed to get you the same house arrest terms, though there's a veritable platoon of the Borealis Watch stationed outside. Anyway, take it easy, Fang. I will see you in the morning."

He bowed in farewell before both he and his accompanying soldiers took their leave to go back into the early nighttime streets of Cocoon.

Alone now, Fang felt the full weight of the day hit her like an adamantoise stomping. She was drained on so many levels. On reflex, she nearly dropped into the closest chair at the nearby table, and her breath left her lungs in a loud whoosh. She let her mind wander, flittering over all that had happened before thinking back to her own home. Her eyes began to moisten almost against her will as she thought of her father, of Vanille. What must they imagine by now? She had disappeared without any notice, with only a trail of blood left behind.

"Oh! I thought you must be Claire!"

The voice startled her out of her thoughts, and she blinked rapidly to clear her eyes and bring the newcomer into focus.

A young woman stood in the doorway to the room, a full tray of goods in her hands. She had the same sky blue eyes, the same champagne twists of hair, the very same marble skin as Lightning. All that was different was her rounder face and her shorter, even tinier frame. They watched without speaking for a very long second, both just staring wide-eyed at one another.

"You're Fang." It was not really a question.

She could easily guess who this miniature version of Lightning was, but Fang didn't recall having ever been introduced. "And you are…?"

"Oh right!" Remembering herself, the young woman set down the tray she was carrying and introduced herself. "I'm Serah, Claire…er, Lightning's…younger sister."

An awkward silence ensued afterward, punctuated only by the rhythmic ticking of grandfather clock in the hallway. Perhaps in a different time Fang would have been far more enthusiastic to meet a member—actually, the only member—of Lightning's family. But given all that she had been through, given her mood, given  _everything_ …she found it hard to be excited in even the least bit.

"Aren't you afraid of me…I don't know…corrupting you or something?" Fang could not help but taunt, though there was no true malice behind it. She was drained from the day's proceedings and lacked the patience or tact to completely hold back her sarcasm.

The petite woman held her ground, appearing neither intimidated nor put off. Instead she sat down across from Fang and busied herself with pouring two cups of tea from the tray she had been carrying. Once finished, she politely offered one to Fang, who now felt rather appropriately guilty for her childish comment only a moment earlier.

She accepted the fragrant tea with as much grace as she could manage. "Thank you."

This time the silence was more comfortable as they both enjoyed their drinks, relaxing in the momentary calm. After a minute, Fang noticed something through the steam of her tea as she sipped it.

Serah was studying her, with the quiet intensity of a person approaching a mystery that they weren't quite sure how to solve. The cup of tea slowly moved back down from Fang's lips to the table, and she somewhat nervously looked back at the mini-Lightning.

"Uh…"

Before she could fully ask whatever it was that she was going to, Serah cut her off.

"What is your relationship with my sister, Fang?"

She asked the question with the same ease that another would ask what time of day it was. Fang was suddenly glad that she had set her cup down for fear that she might had choked had she still been sipping tea. Nonetheless, she prided herself on making no overt reaction beyond her slightly raised eyebrows at the blunt question.

_Well, well_ , came the thought.  _I suppose little sisters aren't so different after all._

With that, she pondered the situation much as she would were Vanille the person in question. She grinned, somewhat teasingly. "And why would you be asking a question like that to little old me, who you barely know? Why not ask your sister? Or aren't you close?"

Serah made a face at this, clearly a bit miffed that she had not gotten whatever response she had been looking for. "My sister and I  _are_  close, but that doesn't mean she tells me everything, especially more private details of her life."

"So instead you're asking me?" countered Fang. Oh, this was too easy. She had far too much experience baiting Vanille for her own good.

"Are you saying you wouldn't have the faintest idea even?" Granted, it seemed that the younger Farron was decently formidable herself.

_Now_  Fang was having some fun. It was quite obvious that Lightning hadn't told her sister anything about Fang, and given all that she had seen thus far of Cocoon's attitude toward outsiders, she couldn't say she didn't understand. And considering how painfully obvious it was that Serah wanted in on the truth, Fang thought that making the younger sister work to get there might help to lighten her own mood.

"The faintest idea on what?"

A pouting frown decorated Serah's lips briefly, and Fang wanted to cackle gleefully. Then she adopted a different tactic.

"So, how well would you say you know my sister?"

Fang waved a hand nonchalantly. "Oh, certainly no where near as well as you. And, you know, there's always more to learn about a person."

This time Serah's eyes narrowed in calculative though.

"Of course," she agreed. "But, if you had to describe your interactions: amicable, hostile…?"

"Oh, very much hostile when we first met each other. I though I was going to get an arrow through the throat for certain," Fang confided.

Serah shook her head, muttering something reprimanding toward her older sister under her breath. Then she turned her attention back toward the huntress. "But after that? The other times that you met?"

"Well, I've certainly avoided the arrow to throat," began Fang, then wanted to curse when Serah interrupted triumphantly.

"I  _knew it!_ I  _knew_  that Lightning must have been seeing you during those nine months! That's why she started going on so many more patrols!"

_Caught_. Protesting at this point would do nothing, so Fang opted to shrug and finish her tea. Granted, when she set down her cup, Serah was, yet again, focused back on her.

"So, Fang. What's the answer then? Friends, more than friends?"

She leaned back into her chair comfortably and made a noncommittal sound of general agreement to Serah's question. The frown of consternation showed what Serah thought of the response.

"What does that mean?"

Fang made the same sound, much to Serah's displeasure. They were at an impasse, and both knew it. Taking what wins she had gained and admitting that she would get no more, Serah shook her head, albeit with a small smile decorating her face. "Well, whatever it is that you are to Claire, Fang…I'm glad that you're there for her. I just wish that we had met under better circumstances."

Fang stared down into the dregs of her tea, feeling the prior mirth drain from her.  _Me too._

Just as Serah was about to offer more tea, there was a commotion from the front door—the sound of it opening, of voices, and then of the door closing shut, followed by silence. Serah had already risen before Fang could move.

"I'll see who it is."

Then she disappeared into the hallway before Fang could utter a word. So instead Fang waited, hearing the muted sound of greetings and conversation. The exchange gradually grew louder and was accompanied by footsteps until Lightning entered the room, Serah just behind her. As soon as she saw Fang, she cut off whatever she was in the middle of saying and stopped dead. For her part, Fang pushed off of her chair and quickly stood.

"Fang!" exclaimed Lightning. Surprise at seeing the Oerban was written across her face. "I didn't think that you'd be…that they would…are you all right? How are your injuries? Dr. Estheim said…"

In a breath Lightning had closed the remaining distance between the two, her eyes overly bright with concern as one hand gently cupped Fang's shoulder and the other tentatively hovered over her abdomen, brushing just barely enough to send Fang's senses alight. Fang tried to reassure her. She pulled up her shirt to reveal her stomach and the white scar against her darker flesh.

"I'm okay now. The doc fixed me bloody well, so I'm practically back up to full speed."

Still, Fang saw a dark shadow flicker through the soldier's eyes, and when she realized what it was, she spoke again. She would  _not_ have Light continuing to hold guilt over this. That served no one any good, least of all Lightning. Fang grabbed the woman's hands into her own, trying to pin the crystal blue gaze with her own.

"I'm alright now, Light. Really and truly. You saved my life, and I mean it…thank you."

There! She had finally caught Lightning's eyes, and much to her relief, she saw those shadows slowly recede as the woman's gaze warmed under hers.

A politely discreet cough interrupted them, and both quickly released hands and took a half-step back from each other.

"I don't mean to cut in, but…" Serah spoke from the doorway where she still stood.

"Serah…" Lightning took a deep breath, summoning a courage from within her chest—since when had she even felt nervous?—and continued, facing her sister head on. She needed to do this. "This is Oerba Yun Fang, a respected huntress and warrior in not only her village of Oerba, but across the lowland kingdoms. We first we met nine months ago while I was on patrol, and we've been seeing each other in the months since…"

At this point, Lightning had reached out grab Fang's hand, at first making the huntress nearly startle with surprise before fingers intertwined tightly with own.

"…Fang means more to me than what I know how to say, and I plan on doing everything I can to keep her safe."

She finished with her head held high, though two spots of color marked her cheeks. Though to be fair, that last bit left Fang's cheeks feeling a bit warm, too.

Surprisingly, there was no immediate reaction from Serah. She remained impassive.

"Well, I'm not going to lie: I'm disappointed that you never told me anything; but," Then her face broke out into an unabashedly bright smile. "I am so happy for you, Claire!"

She nearly ended in a squeal before darting forward to envelope both Fang and Light in a strong hug. When she pulled back, she was nearly bouncing on the balls of her feet.

"Alright, then what's the plan?"

Lightning exchanged a quick glance with Fang; both were equally confused as to what Serah meant. "What do you mean, Serah?"

The younger woman huffed with mock annoyance. "Come on, you know we can't leave anything up the Council to decide properly. So what's your plan for getting Fang out of here? A midnight breakout? A body double? A secret pact with the Zephyr Guard?"

" _Serah_." Lightning voice was stern. "This isn't a fantastical novel of yours. We're  _under house arrest_. There are Borealis Watchguards waiting just outside the door."

_No doubt just waiting for an excuse to exercise their weapons._  That part went unsaid.

Serah's face fell. "Isn't there anything to be done? I'm sure Snow would help, too. Claire…"

Lightning stepped forward and wrapped her sister in a soft hug. "Serah, I know you want to do something, but it's beyond us right now…"

At this point, there was the sound of yet another commotion outside the front door, silencing their conversation. All three of them moved into the front foyer where they could better hear what was going on. There were no voices, but the sounds of harsh and violent struggle outside, accompanied by muffled yells of pain and the distinctive, dreadful thump of bodies sliding down to hit the ground. It went on for less than a minute, and then there was silence.

Lightning whipped around and pushed not only Serah but Fang back behind her, stepping to the forefront in an instinctive motion to shield them. Her hand at first twitched sadly for the gunblade that had been stripped from her for the trial, but it mattered not; she would fight tooth and nail, weapon or no.

Suddenly there was a warm shadow at her side. Fang had steeped forward, not to be left in the back. She gave the soldier a reassuring smile. "I'm right here with you, Light."

Then the front door slammed open, bouncing off of the wall as a group of soldiers charged in. Just as Fang was about to launch forward, Lightning's arm snaked out to grab her and hold her back. Fang was only then able to register that she recognized one of the soldiers in the forefront as Snow, who was already lowering his weapon in relief as he laid eyes on his fiancée.

Lightning's attention was not in her future brother-in-law, but on the man in front of him as he removed his helmet to expose his face fully.

"Lieutenant-Colonel Rygdea? What are  _you_  doing here?"

That lead soldier—Rygdea—ran an armored hand through his mess of dark hair, and while he flashed a quick and roguish smile, his face was still serious. "No time to chit-chat, Farron. We need to get you all out of here and to safety pronto. There's been a coup."


	11. Chapter 11

They very nearly ran through the nighttime streets of Cocoon.

Fang was more than glad to have Kain's Lance firmly back in hands. A part of her had despaired at the thought of losing the so finely tuned weapon. Thankfully, Snow had possessed the foresight to bring not only Lightning's sword with him, but Fang's lance as well.

" _Can't afford to babysit anyone, so I hope you know how to use that weapon well, Fang."_

Or that's how the commanding officer, Rygdea, had phrased it. Even Serah had grabbed a handful of arrows and a fancy composite bow from within the Farron manor; having them all armed to the teeth was apparently not a bad idea, either, considering that they encountered a Borealis Watch only a scant minute's jog away from the house. As Fang took her place again closer to their vanguard, she thought to herself that either way, she wasn't complaining. A huntress—no, a Titan—was nothing without his or her weapon.

Rygdea, who was growing on the Oerban, turned around briefly to throw a wolfish grin at Fang. "Glad to see that you  _do_ make good use of that spear of yours."

"I like to think that it's kinda like me: more than just for show."

Lightning noted with a vaguely disturbed sense of surprise how similarly feral both Fang's and Rygdea's smiles were. She shook her head and turned to check on her sister briefly as they all collected themselves from the most recent skirmish and prepared to continue on their way. Snow shadowed over the younger Farron, a silent bodyguard that Lightning was extremely grateful for in this circumstance.

"Serah, are you doing okay?"

"I'm  _fine_ , Claire," she grumbled, with all of the practice of a younger sister who has constantly needed to reassure her older sibling. "I'm not a soldier, but you did teach me how to properly use this bow."

They had all seen just how well trained Serah's shot was, and it was a good thing, too. The streets were crawling with Borealis watchguards, and seemed that every time they finished handling one group, another lurked just around the corner.

"Just a bit further. We're almost there."

Fang heard Snow's voice from behind her, a sad attempt at whispering and most likely directed toward Serah, though she didn't spare the extra second to turn around and check. All of her senses were focused on her surroundings, alert and ready. She was used to fighting and hunting in far more open spaces than this urban cityscape, and against entirely different enemies.

Even in this foreign midnight landscape, though, she could recognize that they had moved into a different area. The buildings that flanked them were now packed tightly together, with only the occasional small alleyway in between, while the road they were taking grew progressively wider, until finally opening up into a large square lined with closed vendor stalls along the sides, and filled now with a slew of Zephyr Guardians.

A great many voiced echoed the greeting of "Lieutenant-Colonel Rygdea", along with sharp salutes. Fang found herself being ushered with the rest of her party through the small army of soldiers until the reached the back end of the square, and she herself face-to-face with Amodar again.

The captain bowed to Rygdea before clasping hands with him. "Sir, it's good to have you back, and with everyone else whole and hale." Then he turned toward the rest of them. "Welcome to the Merchant District—also known as the new official counter-coup headquarters."

Serah was the first to speak, one hand clutching tightly around a cluster of arrows. Her round eyes were filled with obvious distress. "Snow, what's going on?"

"Uh…" The blond giant frowned as he tried to form the proper words, and he ended up looking in askance at Rygdea instead.

As Fang turned to about to wait for a response, she took better note this time of all of the soldiers around them. For those that didn't wear helmets, their faces were equally serious, shadowed with worry.

Rygdea's face matched theirs now, drained of any light-hearted attempts at mirth that the huntress had already grown accustomed to during the foray through the Cocoonian streets. "To put it short and sweet, Dysley's seized power. He's always had Nabaat under his thumb—and thereby the whole of the Borealis—so they've declared martial law."

There was no need to look at the thunderstruck expression Light wore to comprehend the gravity of the situation. The only question in Fang's mind now was how just how thoroughly they were screwed or not.

That was, however, not the immediate question asked by Lightning (for which Fang could not entirely blame her).

"And what about Regent Zaidelle? Commander Rygdea, or Doctor Estheim?" The waver in normally stoic voice betrayed how unsettled she actually was. "Where are they in all of this? You can't mean to say…"

"At ease." Rygdea's voice was even, calming any potential panic. "The commander and the other regents are still alive and well, though essentially being held hostage at the Grand Amphitheatre. Dysley and Nabaat aren't so stupid as to knock off their remaining council members, though not for lack of want. No, Dysley knows he needs to get more of the Council behind him in order to keep the public's support and maintain control."

"Not that we're gonna let that happen!" Snow slapped a fist against his metal chest plate as if to hammer in the point. At least someone was looking up. Granted, a sly smile decorated the lieutenant-colonel's face after the brief outburst.

"Let's just say that things didn't go quite according to plan for them. I had been attending Lord Raines in the amphitheatre when they initiated the coup, and with the commander's quick-thinking help, I managed to give them slip and escape out, though not entirely unscathed…" Rygdea trailed off, pointing with a twisted grin toward the large bruise that had been steadily blooming on his right cheek. "Anyway, I managed to get out and alert as much of the Zephyr Guard as I could, which has put a set-back to their plans."

Amodar continued for the lieutenant-colonel. "No doubt they were hoping to completely cripple any attempt at a counter by keeping both Commander Cid and Lieutenant-Colonel Rygdea under arrest, but that not being the case, we have a chance to try and reverse things before it's too late."

"I don't understand," argued Lightning aloud; her mind couldn't fully wrap around the drastic turn of events. "How can they think they'll actually get away with this? Especially right in the middle of…the trial?"

Rygdea, Amodar, and Snow all exchanged significant glances, and Lightning felt her gut tighten painfully, muscles instinctively readying for a fight.

"Well, unfortunately the deck seems to be more than a bit stacked against us," Rygdea admitted .

Lightning's eyes darted from Rygdea to Amodar, and then back to Rygdea. "What do you mean?"

The commanding officer heaved a resigned sigh and ruffled his sweat streaked hair. "How do I put this…? Initial scout reports started coming in about two hours ago and have since been confirmed. There's an armed group of lowlanders that has been sighted moving up the mountainside from the closest plains' village of Oerba, headed steadily closer to Cocoon. Dysley and Nabaat have identified it as a hostile invading force and are declaring martial law so as to ensure the safety of the city and the people against this outside—"

"That's no invading force, that's the bloody search and rescue party looking for  _me_!" interjected Fang angrily, the first words she had uttered since they arrived in the Merchant District. It was no surprise to her that Oerba had mustered a search party by now. And Maker, if it were an invasion, then they would damn well know it! How could they even think…?

Lightning tried to chime in a bit more tactfully. "Fang  _has_  recently become a bit of a high ranking person in the lowlands, Rygdea, so it makes sense that they've sent out a search party."

"Of course it does," he admitted. "You don't have to convince any of us of that. Dysley's simply using it as excuse. Trying to fan the flames so that when he finishes his coup, he can argue he was doing it all for the greater safety of the people, or some bullshit like that. Problem is, they're doing a damn good job of it all right now."

Lightning fought off the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Where...what is the status report?"

It was far easier to fall into standard military form and address the situation as "Lightning" than it was as "Claire".

"Not good; they got the sucker punch on us. The Borealis Watch was completely ready and waiting for the orders, while I had to scramble who wasn't already compromised within the Zephyr Guard. The Day Watch has the entire Senatorial District on complete lockdown, guarding the amphitheatre where those traitorous snakes Nabaat and Dysley have Cid, Alyssa,  _and_  Bartholomew." Rygdea shook his head and muttered angrily under his breath. "We're pinned down pretty damn well here, and they know it. Outside of a few pockets of resistance, most of our forces are here, and this is all we've got to use. We can't really afford to think of splitting up."

Which meant that their already limited options were rapidly dwindling. Lightning tried to keep from wincing and failed. "Just how bad is it?"

Rygdea sighed and looked at Amodar to explain. With a brisk nod, the captain led them toward the stone wall of one of the adjacent shops, where a large and detailed map of Cocoon had been temporarily hung by one of the officers to better strategize their position.

Amodar expertly pointed out to various colored markers on the map, clearly representing different units of both the Borealis and the Zephyr. "As you can see, the Borealis has the entire Senatorial District locked down with two full battalions, plus they've activated the heavy artillery in a defensive ring around the square. They have a third battalion stationed in the Military Quarter to keep it on lockdown, while their remaining two battalions are located at various points along the main roads, and—based on the latest reports from our scouts—positioning themselves to try and pin us in."

While he spoke, his finger traced through different apparent weak points in the wall of Borealis units until it inevitably reached the heavily fortified amphitheatre.

"We've looked at nearly every possible iteration for attacking the Senate District." His finger tapped slowly over that point on the map.

"And?" probed Lightning.

Amodar shook his head grimly. "All the same. It's not a matter of strategy or tactic; it's simple numbers. We can't break their district lines."

He didn't need to say what else that implied. The Zephyr Guard were all loyal, committed soldiers. Not a single one of them would back out of the charge, even knowing that it would mean all of their deaths. But what else could they do? They were being cornered, and for many of them, surrender held even worse potentials.

"I can get you more help."

Everyone turned to look incredulously at Fang. A momentary tremor ran through her, but she stood strong and repeated herself. "I can get you more help. That Oerban search party out there…it's no invasion force, but I can guarantee you it's still composed of some of the single best hunters and warriors that the Yun clan and Oerba have to offer, and that's nothing to sneeze at."

When there was no immediate response, she pressed her offer more. After all, she had no desire anymore than the rest of them to die here, never seeing her family again. "We can give you help, enough reinforcements to try and turn the tide in your favor."

Murmured whispers rolled through the throng of soldiers at that, but Rygdea silenced all of them by waving his hand. Immediately, all attention focused back on to the current Zephyr commander.

"Maybe," he conceded that much. "But you're expecting them to freely help us—to potentially put their necks on the line for a group of people they don't even know of. And say that they do agree to help, and somehow we do manage a counter-coup; what then? What's to keep them from trying to take more afterward when we are at our weakest?"

Fang's temper flared at the insinuation and for a moment she saw only red. "Because you aren't the only ones with a bloody code of honor!"

"Fang…"

Lightning half-heartedly tried to intercede, but Fang would have none of it. Not this time. This needed to be said.

"Yeah, I know that Eden drew a short stick in the Great War, but guess what?  _So did everyone else!_  Everyone had stories of betrayal, treachery, and backstabbing—that's the entire story of the damned war! But everyone also had to rebuild, not just you. And for the rest of us down in the "lowlands", as you so lovingly put it, that meant rebuilding with  _each other_. We have lived contentedly for over the last century without any of the upheaval that you have right now.

"Yet you still have the gall to stand here, pointing fingers at people who know nothing about, accusing them for the shadows of your imagination, when the very real and active enemy came from within your own walls and your own people. The Yun clan—no more than I—is  _not your enemy_." She paused to take a deep and shuddering breath, trying to calm her still bubbling wrath. "Look, I don't know what else I can do to convince you of my clan's honor besides to vouch for them. While I've been here, haven't I been respectful, honorable, and accepting of your people?"

Granted, she had been a prisoner and with little choice in the matter, but still…if she had wanted to cause trouble for them, she certainly could have, and it would have been more than warranted.

"All that I have ever learnt of the Code of Honor has come through my tribe, particularly through my father. He is one of the most respected warriors of the Yun clan, and not just for sheer skill. He is a wise and esteemed hunter, and I know that he will consider your cause, and that the other hunters will, too, in turn. Rygdea, if you only let me ask it of them, I am sure that they will give us aid."

She ended with as much confidence as she could, though even she could not be completely certain of what she promised. If the group of warriors did not want to help, she could not make them. However, she knew her people, and she could not believe that they would turn their backs on her if she asked.

Her tirade finished, they were all left in a heavy and growing silence. There was no reprimand from Lightning or anyone else. Instead, Rygdea slowly walked along the cobblestone, making his way back toward the pinned map.

"Still, you're expecting me to…to be the one who invites an outside military force into our walls? What you're asking…" Rygdea stared off into the distance, deeply conflicted.

Fang wanted to say something, but knew that it was no longer her place. It was Snow who spoke up.

"Rygdea, what other choice do we have if we want to counter?"

Amodar followed up, pointing back at the map. "It's the unfortunate truth. As it stands, if we try to attack their main force at the amphitheatre, we'll be crushed. We don't have the numbers to try any feints, and we risk losing just as many numbers as what we'd gain if we try to strike out at the other districts to recover more Zephyr units. Sir, if you want to do a glory charge, you know that we will all follow you."

Rygdea rubbed the stubble on his chin pensively. Then he turned toward Lightning, his brow both serious and questioning.

"What's your take then, Farron? You have a better idea than the rest of us about the Oerbans."

Lightning seemed genuinely taken aback. "Sir? I…I'm not…"

Rygdea cut back in, "Farron, I'm asking for your opinion. Please."

That seemed to do the trick. Though hesitant at first, Lightning spoke with increasing confidence. "Though I cannot speak exclusively for the Oerbans, I can speak for Fang. For all of the year that I have known her, she has shown nothing but the utmost loyalty and trust…even…even when she has not been given reason to."

Slowly, the commander nodded his head. Heaving a great sigh, he turned back around toward Fang. "Oerba Yun Fang…the wind forgive me, but I will place our hope in you. If you can bring your touted warriors to our aid, then I—then all of Cocoon—shall be forever in your debt."

He bowed low toward the huntress, and all of the soldiers soon followed suit. When he raised his head again, his sea green eyes were hard and focused. "What needs to be done?"

Now, Fang glanced helplessly toward Lightning, unsure and uncomfortable. Thankfully, Light also stepped forward again, pointing toward the map and the best path for their attack.

"Lead the troops to strike and focus on taking the Dragon's Pass Gates. From what you've marked, their units aren't set up with expectation that you would head in that direction anyway, so you shouldn't have trouble clearing a path. Once there, hold your positions and wait for us to join up."

Rygdea nodded at the plan, but raised a valid question. "And just where will you be going?"

"Fang and I need to route ahead of you to bring the Oerban force up to the Gates. We can't afford to waste any extra time."

Now Fang was confused. Just how the heck were they supposed to sneak ahead of the enemy forces and get outside the city to find the rescue party? Catching Fang's perplexed glance, Lightning's lips twitched upward in a smile and she explained herself, tracing a different pathway along the map that led up toward the…aerie?

"In order to reach the Oerbans first and lead them to the Gates to rendezvous with you, we'll need to fly out of the city. And for that, we'll need Odin."


	12. Chapter 12

They made their way through the empty backstreets shrouded now in both darkness and, except for the occasional boom and sound of conflict in the distance, silence.

The rest of their coup resistance group seemed to have made decent headway in progressing toward Dragon's Pass and in, thankfully, diverting the roaming Borealis troops away from Fang and Lightning's more covert mission.

The aerie tower loomed ever taller as they closed the remaining distance.

They were fortunate to not encountered any troops, but even so, they could not afford to drop their guard, not even for a moment.

So when they reached the apparently open square that separated them from the entrance to the aerie, they still halted for a moment and checked for any Borealis guards lurking about the plaza. Much to their relief, the coast was clear.

_Wait._

But before they could run across the square to the aerie, Fang was reminded of one last thing she wanted to do before they ventured of the edge of their proverbial cliff and into the unknown.

"Light!"

Fang grabbed Lightning's shoulders and hauled her in to kiss her like there was no tomorrow. Well, there really might not be a tomorrow for them!

When she—reluctantly—let the Cocoon native back, she was pleased to see even in the pale moonlight that Lightning seemed quite happily thrown off, complete with a glazed look in her eyes as the tip of her pink tongue unthinkingly ran over her bottom lip.

"What was…? No. That's a stupid question." Lightning corrected herself before even fully asking. She shook her head as if to better clear it, and then grabbed the front of Fang's shirt and yanked her back for another long and hard kiss.

When Fang was finally released, it was her turn to feel more than a bit pleasantly dazed. But the close heat of Light's body was all too quickly replaced again by cold space as the soldier turned back to the task at hand, smiling for all that she was shaking her head.

"Come on, Fang, let's go."

"You expect me to go back to running around and trying to save the world after that?" She whined unashamedly; there had been no further attempt on her part to get moving again.

Lightning looked back at Fang now, her eyes trailing and lingering down along the length of the huntress, making Fang's cheeks heat up unexpectedly. "If…if it helps, it's not any easier for me either."

That bit of knowledge didn't help Fang, but she took the extra few seconds to close her eyes, run a silent count in her head, and refocus on the task at hand. They were going to get through this, she had to tell herself. They would make it through and there would be time enough to enjoy more of the base pleasures in life.

"Alright," she said. She was a Titan after all. Her hands shifted their grip on her lance. "Let's do this."

They finally crossed the still courtyard to reach the granite base of aerie, with its daunting stone stairway that led up and into the tower.

"One last thing, Fang." Lightning stopped in front of the stairs, bringing Fang to an abrupt halt. Though she could hope that they were stopping for another quick make out session, the deadly serious look on Lightning's face quickly dashed any hope of that. They were all business now.

"There's Bahamut—a guardian beast for the aerie—and it's not a creature we'd want to fight. Luckily, the monster is kept chained and in its own alcove. Normally the aerie manager keeps it subdued with meat—but he won't be here now. If we can make our way through quietly enough, we should be alright. Whatever you do, just try to be silent. We'll have to communicate with signals."

Fang immediately opened her mouth to ask what _kind_ of beastie, but thought the better of it, grinned, and then gave a silent okay sign with her hands just to prove how damn good she could be at following instructions.

It evoked a pursed-lip smile of amusement from Light, if only for a moment, who then nodded and signaled with her hands that they should move onward.

The way was neither barred nor locked, and for all that the colossal entry door appeared ancient, it opened soundlessly beneath Lightning's hands; not even the faintest creak escaped from its well-oiled hinges.

Now inside, they slowed to a more cautious pace, favoring silence over speed as they traversed the stone hallway into the open circular center of the tower.

This was the first place she had visited in Cocoon, she realized, that seemed to be lit fully by tar pitch torches instead of crystals. The flames gave off a constant, moving yellow light, warm and flickering, and reminded Fang of how close she was to getting back to her own home.

She gazed upward and into the open air oculus that crowned the tower, looking into the star-decorated night sky.

And then, it happened.

It took her out of nowhere, with no warning and no explanation. Before she could even think to catch herself, a loud sneeze ripped itself from her throat and lungs, instantly breaking the quiet they had been working so hard to keep.

There was a moment of unadulterated panic as they stared at one another, waiting to see what would happen. After a few prolonged moments of nerve-wracking silence, Fang and Lightning both began to exhale in relief, albeit shakily.

They were a moment to soon.

A rumbling snarl broke through the heavy air.

Both she and Lightning froze simultaneously. There was no denying that the noise was undeniably a growl. But it was so low and loud that it vibrated through the tiled floor, making the fine hairs on the back of Fang's neck immediately stand on end in instinctive fear.

The growl grew in pitch and intensity, until it transformed from an aggressive grumble into a terror-inducing roar; and with the roar, their opponent finally dragged itself into the light of the open aerie.

"A dragon?!" Fang heard her own voice crack; she was too frightened now to be embarrassed. "Your aerie guardian is a thrice-damned _dragon_?!"

There was no time to even listen for a response. Both of their eyes were glued on the massive reptilian shadow that was slowly dragging itself out into the open ground floor of the tower, poking a large and vicious-looking head into the torchlight. Fang watched, entranced, as the great scaly beast sucked in a deep breath of air instead of charging at them. A moment later, Fang was violently thrown to the side of the aerie, very nearly losing her grip on her lance. It took her a second to realize what had happened.

Lightning had tackled Fang to the side and sent them both sprawling across the stone floor. It was just in time, too, as the space where they had been standing only a moment earlier now vaporized in a screech of white hot flame. Even though they were cleared from the jettisoned belch of fire that had erupted from the dragon's mouth, Fang could still feel the fine hairs on her skin crinkle from the ungodly heat.

"Bloody…fuck!" she exclaimed.

Lightning had already managed to haul both of them upright and dragged them sideways as another roar shattered the air.

"Move!" commanded Lighting. She was already up on her feet and running. Fang didn't need any further encouragement to get going herself.

She stumbled back up into a half run, whipping around with her lance fully in hand so that she could better face her opponent.

Now that the dragon had fully emerged from its dark enclave, Fang could better see the full girth of the monster. The creature was huge, easily the size of a behemoth king, but with razor sharp wings to boot. And unlike the bristled fur of the behemoth, the aerie-keeper was sheathed in what Fang knew to be nearly rock hard scales.

Nonetheless, they were going to need to pierce that armor. Adjusting the grip on Kain's Lance, Fang took the moment to make eye contact with Lightning. They both nodded ever so slightly.

 _Let's do this_.

In the blink of an eye they simultaneously began their attack, quickly closing the distance that separated them from their foe.

Fang slid under a second jet of fire before bouncing upright to swing her lance in her first attack. Her bones rang when her spear blade struck the unprotected broadside of the dragon. For all that it was a solid connect, she may as well have hit a stone wall for all that it did.

As she backed away before the dragon could get a piece out of her, her eyes instinctively jumped over to Lightning, who she saw cursing as her sword blade bounced similarly against the tough scales. At least her lance wasn't the only weapon suffering some loss of pride.

The guardian beast reared up onto its hind legs, its wings unfurling like a second night sky. Both Fang and Lightning dove aside as it slammed its body back down to the earth. Neither of them waited for the ground to stop shaking before they resumed their attack.

Despite the fact that Fang had only ever sparred against Lightning—had never fought _with_ her—their moves and styles quickly synchronized into an intricate battle dance. Fang knew all too well how hard it was to work alongside a new partner in the heat of a fight, so for her and Lightning to be meshing tactics and form together so quickly was a pleasant surprise.

Lightning served as a distraction, gaining the attention of the dragon with her flurry of quick attacks, and always diving and ducking just out the way when Bahamut grew angry enough to swipe at her. These counters left clear moments for Fang to get in closer and try to pierce the creature's rock hard skin. But though they settled into a natural rhythm, it was with growing frustration that the huntress recognized they were doing little damage to the dragon, and simply continuing to incite its ire instead.

The guardian dragon wasn't the only one losing patience either.

"Fang!"

The Oerban huntress nodded at the command and launched forward to attack at the same time as Lightning. Caught in their dual charge, the great lizard let loose another roar, this time of pain as at least one of their weapons connected in a soft spot.

But just as quickly, Bahamut had whipped his head around to snap its sizable jaws at closest target; in this case, Lightning. The Zephyr warrior was faster, though, and back-flipped out of range with ease. However, the dragon seemed to have at last predicted her motions, and its tail swung exactly to where Lightning was landing before she can manage to throw herself around of the way again. Even with her armor and a half formed guard, the force of the blow sent her flying back to crash into the wall.

"Light!" yelled Fang. They were still helplessly separated by the beast between them.

Though still terribly dazed by the attack, at hearing Fang's cry she was able to muster the energy to wave that she was okay.

Seeing that Lightning was still moving—if slowly—made the crawling fear in Fang's stomach rapidly burn away into a flame of righteous anger. Bellowing a wordless shout of rage, she charged the dragon with little to no concern for her own livelihood.

She rolled under the first paw swipe, ducked the second, and jumped over the curling tail that would have knocked her legs out from under her. In the space of the opening it left, she pressed her own attack, slashing and hacking away in an attempt to strike the more vulnerable neck tissue.

In a retaliatory move, it hissed and threw its head at her, jaws open and gaping to impale her if it could.

Fang acted before even allowing herself to think, jumping up and forward, and scrabbling blindly with her hands as she found herself not in the maw of the black dragon but on top of its scaled and now very angry face. The monster spewed fire with its roar, and thrashed its head desperately to remove her.

Fang held onto the horns with an iron grip. If she let go now, the creature would fling her against the building walls with easily enough force to break bone. But if she could hold on just a little while longer and wait, she would be able to land a potentially fatal blow to one of the dragon's eyes.

Her gaze honed in on her closest target: the left eye of the beast. But as she focused on that eye, preparing her one-shot attack, she found that the eye looked right back at her, almost into her. For some reason beyond her own comprehension, she felt part of her freeze, felt the thoughts of killing the creature that had dominated her mind only seconds prior bleed out from her thoughts.

She stared, unable to bring herself to attack anymore, while the great blood-red eye of the dragon stared right back at her and, miraculously, it calmed. It ceased thrashing its head to gaze unblinkingly at her, struck by the same trance that held her.

Though Lightning had by now stood and approached with her sword in hand, the dragon made no move toward her, instead lowering its head to allow Fang back onto the ground. Her azure gaze flitted between the beast and the woman several times before she slowly lowered her blade, her brow now furrowed.

"You never told me you were a beast tamer!" she accused, though her tone was filled more with awed disbelief than true skepticism.

Finally, Fang looked away from her new-found scaly friend and back to Lightning, pieces starting to connect in her head as conscious thought returned. "I'm not! I'm a hunter."

As if that explained everything.

"Either way, this fella's no threat to us anymore."

Lightning shook her head and walked into the center of the aerie. "If you say so."

Nonetheless, she sheathed her weapon. And Fang _did_ say so. She wasn't lying; she was no beast tamer, but she intrinsically knew that Bahamut would not harm them. Even now, she felt a connective sense of trust with the guardian. It evoked a soft chuckle from her; maybe she was a dragon tamer? Either way, she wasn't going to complain.

She affectionately patted his muzzle.

"Aww…you're just a big sweetheart, aren't you?"

Bahamut snorted gently into Fang's arms as if to express his agreement to that statement, while Lightning rolled her eyes, which Fang chose to steadfastly ignore.

Now standing squarely in the middle of the tower floor, Lightning cupped her hands to her lips and let out a trilling whistle that echoed upward through the aerie. As the last note dissipated, Fang saw movement from near the distant top of the towered building. Two great wings unfurled and a white and gold, almost equine creature glided downward to land in front of Lightning. It even let out a soft noise that was somewhere between a horse's whiny and a chocobo's chirp.

Fang's hands left Bahamut as she stepped closer to the griffin. She didn't even need the introductions to know who this was.

"Fang, this is Odin. Odin, Fang."

The huntress politely inclined her head to the noble steed, and nearly jumped when the griffin did the same back to her.

Odin was large, far larger than what Fang had ever expected a griffin to be—granted she only had stories and old drawings to go off of. He was easily the size of two to three bull chocobos, with four great, sinewy legs complete with clawed feet and a large, beaked head. And everywhere—across his body, his mane, and his wings—were the most beautiful glowing white and gold feathers. Really, he was more spectacular that what she could have ever imagined.

Despite that great size, Lightning vaulted atop his back as easily, settling into a spot behind his wings without ruffling a single feather of his. Odin now pranced ever so slightly in place, and his wings stretched halfway out before snapping back in. Clearly, at least one member of their growing party was ready to get going.

Light pressed a hand against Odin's neck to calm him and then turned to look down at Fang.

"I was going to offer you a ride out of here, but…" She finished with a raised eyebrow directed toward Bahamut. Fang then turned to face her new dragon companion with a wide grin. For his part, Bahamut quirked his great head back quizzically.

Lightning might be the very vision of elegance mounted atop Odin, but Fang had never quite been an exemplar of grace or refinement herself.

Her canines flashed white as her grin widened.

She had a inkling that she and Bahamut would be just perfect for each other.


	13. Chapter 13

The night sky revealed no answers to the tired and searching eyes of Oerba Yun Sol. There was only the occasional cloud to block the light of the full moon and sea of stars tonight, little good that it did for him.

With the onset of darkness came the questions and doubts, plaguing Sol's mind. He thought of all that had happened in the past year, of all that Vanille had revealed to him about the mysterious stranger, the supposed descendant of Eden. But most of all, he thought of Fang, and he cursed that they were no closer to finding her than when they had started the search; they were no closer to even knowing if she still lived.

He shook he head at the dire thought, and the tiny beads that were woven into his black hair clinked softly. They would find her yet. He smiled for a brief moment. He could not believe that his obstinate, rash, fool-headed spawn would be so easily killed. No, he believed—he had to believe—that she was out there still, probably getting herself into an even bigger mess than before, knowing her.

Sol sighed and leaned to look back up into sky, and suddenly realized that the shadow across the moon was moving far too rapidly to be a cloud…and it was growing.

"To arms! To arms!"

A sentry called it out just as he was opening his mouth. The cry echoed around the campsite, and though Sol had yet to even see who their foe was, he was proud to note that every warrior in sight, even those who had been asleep, were armed and on their feet, ready to meet whatever foe that dared try and attack them under the cover of darkness.

An even greater cry went up when one of the sentries was finally able to distinguish what the rapidly descending creature was.

"DRAGON!"

If there were any who had not moved with urgency before, they were now. That camp buzzed to a point of panic as hunters desperately grabbed their gear and weapons. The first archers were lining up their shots when a familiar voice rang out through the nighttime air.

"Ho! At ease! By the divine hunter's bow, please don't shoot me down! I've had enough of getting knocked around lately…"

Arrows lowered slowly.

"Titan?"

"…Fang?"

The questions rang out from different sources, but they were all answered.

"It's alright, it's me. I promise, it's really me."

There was no mistaking that voice.

As the great shadow of the dragon landed before them, Vanille screamed out Fang's name and broke ranks, dashing forward toward the familiar figure that was already dismounting from her fearsome steed, not even registering the flash of white the heralded another flying creature landing nearby.

"Van!"

Fang was nearly tackled to the ground by the force with which the younger woman threw herself.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! But when you didn't come back, I didn't know what happened, and then we were all worried, and I had to tell everyone so we could make sure that you still okay and…"

Though the warriors were now convinced that it was truly their spear-sister before them, they only fully lowered their weapons when Sol stepped forward, and dropped his own great battleaxe to the ground without a care in the world. At the muted blow of the ax striking the earth, Vanille detached herself from her sister, stepping cautiously back while Fang turned to face her father.

Sol was not a man that most would describe as being overtly emotional. He was well trained at keeping his feelings, even wrath or sorrow, in tight check. But at seeing his daughter, the sole remaining member of his family whom—even now he only just began to admit—he feared might have been snatched away by the cold hands of death beyond them all, somewhat within him broke down.

"Fang…Fang." He took only a few steps forward before he engulfed his daughter in a crushing hug. He was, after all, her father, and for a moment Fang felt transported back in time to when she was still just a child, protected from the world by the fierce love in her father's arms.

He squeezed her even tighter for a long second, and then finally took a half-step back to let her go.

Fang looked into Vanille's haunted eyes, and then back to her father, where she noticed now more than ever, the wet sheen on his cheeks and the dark shadows beneath his eyes; she realized with an aching pain just what hell she must have inadvertently subjected them to. What could she even begin to say that would right those wrongs?

"I…father…" Her voice failed before the whirlwind of emotions she struggled to reign in.

But the soft rustle of footsteps behind her also quickly reminded her of whom else she had momentarily forgotten.

As Lightning stepped cautiously forward to Fang's side, she stepped full into the strong light of the bonfire, which winked brightly off of her impeccably polished armor. Her arrival was spared only the briefest moment of silence. Then it was broken.

"Look at her mantle!"

It was impossible to tell who had called that out from the camp of people, but regardless, an immediate rush of incredulous talk inflamed the group, with only snippets managing to be caught above the furor.

"…feathers!"

"Vanille  _was_  right!"

"…Edenian…Zephyr…"

"…only legends!"

" _Lightning_ …" Vanille breathed out, too softly to be heard by any beyond Fang.

"Calm!"

The order was issued from Sol's deep and commanding baritone, and the warriors quickly stilled and silenced their voices, though even by the light of the fire, their faces remained brightly curious and eager.

"Fang?" rumbled Sol, a single dark eyebrow raised on his weathered face. Fang winced slightly, ready for the reprimand, but surprisingly none came. There was not even the slightest of disappointment in her father's tone. He continued in a manner that Fang could only describe as gentle. "Will you introduce us to your companion?"

Abruptly, Fang looked back and forth between Lightning and her father. She struggled to form the right words, now uncertain as to how to frame things properly.

"Father, this…ah, well, this is Ligh—"

Without any pretenses or forewarning, Lightning strode directly up to Sol, and then immediately dropped to one knee with her head bowed low.

"Oerba Yun Sol, I…I am Claire Farron, known as Lightning, of the Noble House Farron and of the First Order of the Zephyr Guard. Please, by the name of the wind, for the events that have transpired to bring you here, and for exposing Fang to such danger as I foolishly did, I beg your forgiveness."

Fang stared with open-mouthed surprise at Lightning's bold and forthright declaration to her father. A quick glance at Vanille showed an expression that mirrored her own, though their mutual shock was for different reasons than what caused the loud talk that now ran like wildfire through the ranks of the Oerban warriors. Whatever she had been expecting Lightning to say, it had not been that.

However, if Sol felt any surprise, his face masked it perfectly. What he made of the revelations that had been thrust before him, not even Fang could begin to guess. Nervous, Fang tried to explain as she caught her father's gaze flickering over her body for signs of injury, but she was cut off even as she opened her mouth.

"Lightning, you say?" Sol stepped closer to the still-kneeling woman. Each face in the camp was focused on his every word. "A team of my most trusted fellow warriors and I have been scouring the mountainside for days, desperately searching for any trace of my daughter—my only family left—knowing nothing of where she went or what happened to her save for the trail of dried blood left behind. Each night I have prayed for her safety, and woken fearing that I should never look upon my living child again."

Fang winced at the calmly spoken response. Light's head however remained down-turned and shadowed by her falling hair.

"For that, I reprove you."

With a startling quick motion, his hand moved up and then downward, rapping Lightning on the head with his knuckles. It was not a particularly hard blow, and was not meant to be. Fang herself had been on the receiving end of such a symbolic reprimand multiple times herself, and she was already breathing a sigh of relief before her father had started the next motion.

"But for bringing her back to us—to me—unharmed and whole…I cannot thank you enough."

This time, he reached out his hand for a hunter's clasp, and when Lightning at first hesitantly accepted, he hauled her upright into a tight hug. Fang laughed aloud with Vanille as the rest of the men and women cheered, amused by the look of surprise at being caught in a bear hug with a man that she had only just met. Nonetheless, she returned the hug back.

"Now," he said, a great grin splitting his face as he looked at Fang. "Tell us how you came to find not only this beautiful woman by your side, but also this fearsome steed! Let us hear of the Lost Tribe, if Vanille tells us the truth!"

For all that Lightning was blushing from Sol's forthright declaration, her face quickly grew serious again. Neither Sol nor Vanille missed the significant glance between Fang and Light before Fang turned toward her father, any prior hint of mirth now gone from her.

"Dad," began Fang. "Things are a bit more complicated than that…"

Together, Fang and Lightning explained the current, dire status of Cocoon, as briefly but honestly as they could. As they finished their tale, Sol rubbed the stubble on his chin, thinking as the hunters and warriors behind whispered their own thoughts.

"A hidden city in the mountain peaks…all this time," he mused. "And we knew nothing about it."

He faced Lightning directly.

"And now, after nearly two centuries of deliberate isolation, you break it only to ask for military assistance?"

Lightning tried to repeat again that she would guarantee their compensation—even if the funds came from her House personally. "I—"

"You would ask us to lay our lives down for a people we have not yet even met?"

Lightning swallowed underneath the heavy, hazel gaze of Oerba Yun Sol. He was easily a foot taller than her with at least twice her girth. His folded arms were decorated with a myriad of tattoos that she new without asking to be ritualistic markings of his accolades and strength.

Even so, she raised her chin and held her ground.

"I would ask it," she confirmed.

Things were now officially out of their hands, and Fang had to clench her jaw to suppress the urge to speak out. Anything she said would make little difference; it was up to her father and her fellow clansmen to choose what would follow.

Every pair of eyes was on Sol as he gestured widely with his arms, speaking to all of the men and women before him.

"Clansmen…fellow warriors. We set out onto the mountain to find our lost sister, my own daughter, Fang. We have found her, for here she is. Our task is done. Beyond this, I will command no one. If you choose to go and help our newfound friend, Lightning, alongside our Titan, it is by your choice and yours alone." He paused and then took three large and deliberate steps toward Lightning and Fang, a twinkle in his eyes betraying him for all that he kept his face serious. "I choose to go."

"Well of course I'm coming, too!" chimed in Vanille, running up to Fang's side.

As there was the shuffle of warriors moving to join them, Fang shook her head helplessly at her adoptive sister. "Van…"

That earned her a brief elbow in the side. "Oh, shush, Fang! You know I can take care of myself! And I am not getting left out of things  _again_ …"

She trailed off. Everyone had made their decision, and not a single person remained to stay behind. They had all stepped forward to join forces, even though they stood little to gain and much to lose.

Turning toward Lightning, Fang recognized the look of genuine surprise in her eyes, followed by a glimmer of something deeper: respect.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for all of the terrible delays. All I can say in my defense is: I hate writer's block. Agh.

More than just a few of the Oerbans cocked their heads and turned to look curiously at the now-silent Zephyr guardian. Fang had become so accustomed to Lightning that she had forgotten just how outlandish the woman appeared, particularly amidst the throng of Oerbans. If Lightning happened to notice all of the not-so-covert stares she was receiving, though, she showed no outward sign of it. Rather, she plodded onward with a single-minded and quiet intensity as she led the way back up toward the caves that would end at the Dragon's Gate Pass.

Even in the dim lighting, Fang still recognized the way somewhat. The hazy recollections left a cold stab in her gut instinctively, and she fought the urge to touch her healed abdomen. After a moment, her stomach unclenched, and she searched her memories further, though they were still fuzzy.

She only had so long to keep her thoughts to herself before Vanille interrupted them.

"I really am glad to have you back, Fang. We were worried."

For Vanille to be so unusually serious indicated just the depth of their concern: she had scared the living hell out of her family. Fang took advantage of their sharp difference in height to sling an arm affectionately around Vanille's head, dragging her in for a mixed headlock and hug, just like she used to do when they were still kids and roughhousing.

"Come on, Van. You should know by now that it takes more than a few scratches to take down a Yun! And at the very least, it takes more than some yakshas to take down  _me_."

She punctuated her bold, if somewhat false, statement with a tight and playful squeeze of her arm, making Vanille quietly wail.

"Let goooo, Fang! You're so mean! I hope Light lets you get eaten next time."

Vanille pushed away good-naturedly as Fang allowed her to escape, all harm now forgiven. There would be no tearful apologies between the two sisters, no deep, heartfelt conversations. In their own, quiet way, the apologies and absolutions had already been dealt out and were now to be forgotten. For that, both of them were thankful.

Of course, Fang couldn't say that she was entirely thrilled that Van was joining in on their counter-coup. Even with a plan, even with the reinforcements, it was going to be dangerous; and while Fang knew, perhaps better than any, that Vanille was more than capable of handling herself, she would also feel far more at ease knowing that her sister was safe in Oerba instead of marching into questionably hostile lands. As soon as they merged with the Zephyr forces, things would only proceed to heat up. For all that she was a "lowlander", the huntress knew enough without asking to tell that the Zephyr Guardians would not be content with a deadlock. The intent here was a complete reversal, and there would be no rest until Cid, Alyssa, and Bartholomew were safe; and considering at the very least what she owed Dr. Estheim for saving her life, not to mention what she had seen of the Borealis thus far…she was completely on board with the Zephyr's approach.

At last they had breached the tree line and cleared the forest, standing before a vast cliff wall of hard granite that stretched into the sky, broken only by a single cavernous entryway.

They had reached the Pass.

Everyone slowed and halted as Lightning spoke with Sol outside of the cave. Fang had fallen a bit behind her lover and her father as she had walked alongside Vanille, and as she approached them now, though they discussed business, she didn't even want to contemplate what questions her father may have asked Light while Fang had been out of earshot earlier.

_Gods save me._

She did not voice that thought, though. "What's up?"

Lightning gave Fang a curt nod of acknowledgment, and allowed her voice to carry so that the whole of the "search and rescue" party could hear her.

"Just through this cave lies the gateway entrance to Cocoon. Ryg—my personal commander should be waiting us on the other side with all of the forces we have to muster. Once we join with them, it will be the all out assault."

Sol translated what wasn't being said for anyone who had been too slow to pick up on.

"You hear that, clan brothers and sisters? From this point on out, we'll be jumping into the heat of things, so if you have any last minute preparations to make, I would suggest doing them now."

There was the immediate bustle of weapons being checked and of bags being both emptied and filled.

"Come on, Fang. We need to go take care of Odin and Bahamut."

Fang was more than pleased when Lightning, without waiting for a proper response, gently but firmly grabbed Fang's hand in her own to lead them back toward their mounts.

As they walked back through the party, hand in hand, Fang noticed several hunters crossing themselves against evil even as they prepped their gear.

_That's right…no one's ever been this far up the mountain except me._

Old superstitions, but ones that she knew would not affect how they fought. Oerbans, and the Yuns in particular were renowned for their martial skills and commitment. It would take more than breaking several generations of old legends to scare any one of her clansmen out of a fight.

As for their mounts…Bahamut had been somewhat ingloriously waddling his way up the mountainside while Odin had pranced delicately alongside him, the two legendary beasts composing their rearguard as they had climbed higher up the mountain, since everyone but Fang seemed to want to give the dragon a particularly wide berth, despite her assurances that he would not eat anyone. Lightning gave a trilling whistle to Odin before speaking softly to him, and Fang knew immediately what she wanted Fang to do with Bahamut.

Though Odin could easily fit through the cave entrance, a dragon of Bahamut's size left significant room for question. At the very least, even if Bahamut could fit into the pass, there would be no room for anyone else.

"Stay here, buddy," Fang commanded. She patted his snout at the same time. "You stick with Odin, okay? Stay here."

The ferocious black dragon whuffed to indicate that he understood, though he did not seem particularly enthused by the orders. Satisfied that Bahamut seemed to be obeying her, Fang finally turned to continue into the cave alongside Lightning, though she now found herself on the receiving end of more stares than the Zephyr guardian.

"…not my fault I'm a dragon tamer…" She grumbled under her breath.

She heard the soft chuckle from the champagne-haired soldier in front of her as clear as day, and felt a tension ease in her chest. Fang, and the rest of the Oerbans, followed Light into the cave until then shortly reached the Gate—the solid wall of rock with intricate patterns and, Fang remembered, two great dragons that met along the center of the wall.

This time, perhaps because she was looking for it, she clearly saw the crystals on Lightning's golden torq glow a soft blue.

 _Interesting_ , she thought. Clearly the torque acted as a key of some sort to open the way. It made her wonder what on earth a scout would do if they managed to lose their "key" somehow while on patrol. Would they be left waiting for the good will of someone else to open the stone doorway for them? Her querulous thoughts were left for another time as the gateway came to life. It heaved and pulled itself apart, opening to the full width of the cave.

Troops awaited them on the other side. This time, Fang was easily able to recognize the white fabric and shining armor of the Zephyr Guard, whose ranks rippled and shifted, turning about quickly to face the opening gateway. As Lightning stepped through the gate with Fang and Sol at her side, Rygdea broke through the opposing ranks, Amodar, Snow, and Serah all in tow behind him.

"Way to go, sis! I knew you'd make it!"

For once, Lightning didn't have it in her to snap at Snow for calling her "sis". She hugged her sister as Serah ran up to her, and simply raised an eyebrow as if to say, "Well, did you really expect anything less?"

For his part, Rygdea whistled softly from where he stood, cleared impressed. "By the dead gods themselves, Farron…you actually managed to do it."

At the reverential tone, Lightning looked uncomfortable. "Don't thank me, Rygdea…thank the people who actually agreed to this."

Sol sauntered forward with all of the air and confidence of a man who would surely be named an elder someday. He hefted his scarlet lacquered battleaxe over one shoulder.

"I am Oerba Yun Sol, leader of these hunters and warriors, and father to Oerba Yun Fang. Both she and Lightning have asked that we aid you, so here we are."

Rygdea bowed low, and the surrounding Zephyr soldiers followed suit politely. "And for that, sir, I cannot thank you enough. I am Rygdea, temporary commander of the Zephyr Guard of Cocoon."

They clasped hands, and, formal introductions finished, the tension broke.

"So," queried Sol, now far more at ease. "We've come for a reason. What is the situation? What is your plan to take back your city?"

Rygdea signaled, and Amodar came from between the tight formation of troops, already unfurling the same map that Fang and Lightning had earlier examined in the market square.

"…can combine our forces, then press an offensive here."

Sol scratched at the stubble on the sides of his chin, analyzing the situation as he rested his double-bladed battle ax into the sandy earth.

"Hmm. Their tower defensives seem pretty solid, especially given the crystal cannons you have. We'd have to go with either a pincer feint, or a turtle-protected needle formation to break their line without too many casualties."

Rygdea nodded slowly, his face tight even as he agreed. The reinforcements were helpful beyond expression, but they were still walking the knife's edge a bit too much for anyone's liking.

All the while, Lightning's lips pursed ever so slightly in thought, debating some hidden internal issue. Just as Fang opened her mouth to ask what was bothering her, the knight nodded as though the unheard problem was resolved. She wedged her way in closer to the map.

"If I may, commander…?" A swift nod from Rygdea, and she plunged right ahead. "But I think we can do even better than this. What if we were to do an aerial drop into the square? Start the battle behind their own front lines, and then hit them with our main force before they can even reorganize."

She pointed to a line of brightly colored "X's" on the map. "Their defensive wall would crumble before they knew what to do, and it would give us control of the square faster."

It was all a great idea, but there was one large missing piece in the plan by everyone else's way of thinking, which was immediately voiced by several different people, all of whom were equally concerned with Lightning's greater welfare, though Fang remained quiet.

"Listen, Farron…"

"Claire!"

"Sis…"

"You're a great rider but…"

Multiple voices spoke at once, all voicing their concern with such a plan, but Lightning silenced all of them with a simple motion of her hand.

"It's more than just Odin and I, commander."

"Oh?" Rygdea now looked tremendously more curious than concerned. What ace did Farron have hiding up her sleeve now? It couldn't be more griffins…the noble beasts were too smart, and notoriously loyal to only their set handler.

Lightning nodded, and the tiniest of smiles tugged at the corners of her lips, betraying her. "Fang has Bahamut."

Everyone on the Zephyr side was dead silent for one long disbelieving moment, until Rygdea broke out into raucous laughter. "Well, I'll be damned. You actually managed to tame that blasted monster?!"

For all that he laughed, he tipped his head to Fang in genuine respect. She was surprised that he accepted what they said so willingly without even seeing Bahamut yet himself, and as though he sensed the thought from her, he spoke. "There's been so much crazy shit going on the past few days here, I've decided better than to ask when something else damn near impossible decides to present itself before me again."

He nodded his head to himself a few more times, thinking back through what Light had suggested, running a quick simulation in his mind. Clearly, he was not the only one doing so, as after a moment her turned toward Amodar, who gave him a sharp nod of silent confirmation.

"Well," Rygdea began again; this time his arms were folded as he rounded on Lightning. "Bahamut being the case, then, yes, I think this is our best shot. It'll be a dual front—you two start a ruckus in the square, and before they can even think of cleaning up, we'll smash through their defenses. They won't have time to think of reorganizing, and they'll never even see you two coming. If you've got everything you need then…yes? All right. Form up and prepare to move out."

There was a deafening echo in the cave as countless feet, both Cocoonian and Oerban, immediately realigned, ready to march. A small figure broke the form and ducked under Rygdea's arm, dashing up.

"Claire, wait!"

Serah nearly threw herself at her older sister, gripping her in a tight hug before letting go and stepping back.

"Claire Farron," she lectured sternly. "You take care of yourself and Fang, too, and you both come back in one piece."

Lightning felt her eyes prick unexpectedly. What was coming over her? "Of course I will, Serah. You be careful and do whatever Commander Rygdea tells you, alright?"

And if anyone else besides Fang noticed the sudden huskiness in the normally crisp and clear voice of Claire "Lightning" Farron, they had the sense to say nothing of it.

As for Fang, she connected gazes with Vanille again. They smiled at one another in perfect understanding, needing neither words nor hugs.

_Be safe…and kick some major ass._

Message sent, and received.

With their personal business settled, they turned to leave, before being stopped again.

"Lightning!" Rygdea grabbed her shoulder in a tight grip, halting her even as the soldiers began to exit the Pass and into the city. "We'll move in as quickly as we can manage, but if you can manage to pin down Dysley and Nabaat first…if you get the chance…take your shot. Consider it an order."

His eyes were hard as stone, communicating his unspoken thoughts on the coup leaders.

Lightning nodded; she could only hope that she would get the opportunity to turn the tables. "Yes, sir."

Then they finally turned their backs on their fellow brothers and sisters in arms and walked back out of the cave and to the open mountainside where their mounts patiently waited. They had been engulfed in a tense silence since the gates had closed behind them, and as they stepped out under the starlight again, Fang chose to break it.

"You know," she opened jovially. "You never did check to see if I was okay to jump in this potential suicide mission with you."

A look of momentary horror and shame flashed across Lightning's face as she froze in place, only a few paces away from Odin and Bahamut, who both looked at them expectantly. "That is…I didn't even think to ask you, Fang! I just thought…"

Fang laughed at the woman's obvious embarrassment. "Hells, Light, give me some credit, will you? If I had any strong misgivings about this, you wouldn't have been able to drag me out of that cave." She stilled her mirth. "Besides, you're far more of a strategist then what I ever hope to be; if you think a two pronged assault offers the best chance, then I'll trust your word."

That much was very true, at least by Fang's way of thinking. Though Fang knew herself to be a respectable hunter and warrior—she was Titan, after all—those skill sets were vastly different the military strategy that Light was clearly learned in. And she  _did_  trust Light, for that reason and more, to make the appropriate judgment call on the matter, otherwise Fang wouldn't be standing here now, holding her hand and ready to follow her into battle.

She hadn't even realized that they had been holding hands yet again. When had that happened? Not that she was complaining, but they couldn't very well get on their respective mounts with their hands intertwined. So Fang gave Lightning's hand one parting squeeze of affection, and then gave a low smile in the dim lighting of the moon.

"Let's do this."

Fang climbed atop Bahamut's back, while Light leap onto Odin. As she tightened various straps on his leather saddle, she spoke in clipped, focused tones.

"We need to move fast once we're in, Fang. I know it goes without saying, but…if we take too long, and if Dysley starts to realize that the tide has turned…"

Lightning didn't finish her sentence, and Fang didn't need to ask. They both knew what could happen then. A cornered man was just as dangerous and unpredictable as any cornered animal. If Dysley and Nabaat felt that their coup was about to turn on its head, they might quickly revert from their current option of keeping the other regents alive. If three out of the five regents were killed—regardless of what happened to the usurpers—the resultant political instability could potentially result in an all out civil war for Cocoon. Their time to act was now very much limited to a short window of opportunity.

With that in mind, they flew quickly back over the mountain and into the city airspace, gliding silently through the night sky in search of their prey. Fang noted the amphitheatre and open plaza approaching, but waited as they flew closer, looking to Light for askance.

At last, Lightning waved to her and then pointed downward, confirming that the square below was, indeed, their target. Eager not to waste another second, Fang leaned flat against Bahamut and squeezed against him, wordlessly communicating what she wanted to do. He needed no further encouragement.

Bahamut tucked his wings in and dove downward like a an arrow freshly released from a taut bow, letting loose the same roar that only hours earlier had Fang quaking in fear. But now that she was on the other end of it, watching the Borealis soldiers below her scatter as their confusion morphed into terror, she felt a feral grin of pleasure curl her lips upward. Their battle had officially started, and now she was going to prove to those stuck up jerks who would have seen her executed just exactly why you didn't mess with a Yun.

They landed in the stone courtyard with a bone-jarring crunch, the impact alone causing the great slabs of granite to crack and fissure. Bahamut followed it up with a hissing belch of dragonfire that sent men diving and screaming as they tried to avoid the literal line of fire.

As one of the crystal cannons was turned to aim at Fang and her dragon, a flash of white and gold struck it, sending the operators flying as the cannon exploded. Odin and Lightning moved with a speed that she and Bahamut could only dream of matching, slicing through troops until Lightning launched herself from the back of her winged mount, landing perfectly behind Bahamut with her blade in hand.

"Fang! Come on! Now's our chance! Rygdea and Sol will be here soon—we need to move in before Dysley does something drastic!"

"Alright!" yelled Fang. Then she patted Bahamut one last time. "You hear that, buddy? These guys are all yours. Have some fun and play nice!"

Then she dismounted, sliding down his back and tail, to plant herself only a few paces away from Light.

"Let's go."

* * *

With the Borealis now caught in the disorder of trying to repel the impromptu attack, the way from the square into the amphitheatre was cleared. Fang dashed forward, only barely keeping up with Lightning as they entered the grand building, unnoticed amongst the rampant chaos. They could only hope that they weren't too late.

Sol swung his ax merrily, taking out swathes of Borealis soldiers with a happy grin on his face. He led the charge for Oerbans, striking fear into the ranks of the opposing Borealis, who seemed unable to handle the onslaught of wild hunters and warriors.

As he turned to take make a quick assessment of his own Zephyr knights, Rygdea caught a glance of Sol grabbing the back collars of two Borealis watchmen who had tried to escape his reach just a fraction too slowly. The Oerban huntsman roared with delight as slammed the heads of the two soldiers together in brutal punishment, eliminating yet another threat in their push toward the amphitheatre.

Rygdea shook his head, almost pitying the poor fools who had gotten in the way of Sol. He would say this much: he was glad that the Oerbans were on  _their_  side.


	15. Chapter 15

More than what Fang recalled, the hallways that led to the main amphitheatre were a labyrinth, filled with periodic guards that needed to be disposed of, and quickly. She and Lightning played their roles in an intricate battle dance, one composed of equal parts movement and stealth, and one that had never been taught to Fang in the battle circles or great hunts of the Yun clan, but one that she still picked up intuitively while at Lightning's side. There was no room for allowance in the here and now, no time to risk the yell of a surprised guard to alert the whole of the compound to their presence. They worked silently and in unison, communicating once again with hand signals and nods as they systematically cleared the snaking hallways of all patrolling Borealis troops.

A part of Fang's mind took a certain degree of pleasure in the new challenge of their almost assassin-like approach; it reminded her of the hunt in its own way, except that hunts were all about the patience of waiting; this was the opposite. But there was no time for her to enjoy the familiar thrill of the chase; for there was the ever constant reminder of  _why_  they were on this chase, and what little time they had left to make use of.

The window of opportunity was dwindling with every second that ticked past

Lightning almost gently released the guard from her sleeper hold so that he could crumple to the ground, now unconscious like his partner that Fang had already taken care of. With another obstacle eliminated, they nodded to one another and nimbly leapt over the fallen bodies. Silence was their only companion as they dashed through what was hopefully the ending ground level hallway, almost to the open amphitheatre itself.

At long last they hit the final corner, the open doorway to the right illuminated with light and with the faint sound of only semi-distant voices in the air. There was no need for Lightning to make the proper indicative hand signal; Fang slowed, and then stopped until they both stood shoulder to shoulder, with Lightning against the very edge of the door frame. She sank downward wordlessly, crouching as low as she could get and using the edge of her mirrored blade to give her a reflective glance of what might lurk around the corner. Fang leaned in to see, and felt Lightning relax against her as they both saw that there were no more guards in the immediate vicinity. The blade showed only the light of the open arena-like space, and the movement of the figures that currently inhabited it.

Carefully and cautiously, Lightning withdrew her sword and poked her head around the wall instead, trying to get a full read on the scene with her own two eyes.

"Well?" Fang asked when Lightning had turned back around after a small eternity. She whispered the words into Lightning's ear, feeling a few stray strawberry hairs tickle her lips as she spoke.

Lightning sighed and closed her eyes as she thought. "Take a look for yourself first."

She scooted backward and out of the way, allowing Fang room to move in front of her so as to better spy on their targets. From behind the safety of the corner, Fang now dared to crane her head ever so slightly around, taking stock of the situation laid out before them. In the center of the amphitheatre, on the floor where only just earlier during the daylight hours Lightning herself had been put to trial, stood the perpetrators of all of the ill events that had befallen both them and the citizens of Cocoon.

Galenth Dysley stood in the center of everything, his voice droning on sonorously as he spoke to—or more correctly, "at"—their hostages. Jihl Nabaat stood off to his side, arms folded contently and a bladed baton still sheathed at her side as she watched the proceedings with a small, sadistic smile decorating her delicate features. Fang also recognized the Interrogator there, Yaag Rosch. He stood on guard close to the unwilling captives, his face a stony mask and his military issued saber unsheathed and in hand.

The other three members of the Council of Regents were all seated, and though Fang couldn't see any obvious restraints or bindings on them, they clearly remained seated by force. Her keen gaze raked across Bartholomew and Alyssa, both of whom appeared tired and frightened, but otherwise okay. Then she looked at Cid Raines, who was alert despite Rosch's nearby unsheathed sword, and despite the steady trickle of blood down his temple and the swollen bruise that was already obscuring one eye. Fang gritted her teeth. No wonder why Nabaat and Dysley hadn't bothered to physically bind their prisoners—the clear threat of continued violence kept them in submission.

Fang ran her eyes over all of the occupants one last time, taking careful note again of Rosch's drawn saber and Nabaat's still-sheathed baton. Dysley seemed unarmed, but so did Cid, Alyssa, and Dr. Estheim., and she knew there was no reason to believe that the coup leaders would have left their captives with any potential weapons.

Fang turned back around and let her head thump softly against the hard stone wall that she was seated against, and silently wracked her brain. When she looked toward Lightning, she saw the same unspoken askance in her glacial eyes.

"Do you have a clear shot?" whispered Fang, but even she could already see that answer.

A low, bitter chuckle was her response. "With two targets and Rosch on top of the regents? Yeah, if you know how to stop time for a minute."

 _That's what I thought_.

How on earth were they supposed to rectify this? Fang didn't have the slightest clue. If they rushed in, they might be able to manage something, but the chance that Rosch or Nabaat would take down at least one of the other regents with them was astronomically high. At the same time, if they waited for Rygdea to catch up to them, then the chance of Nabaat and Dysley doing something…drastic…was almost guaranteed.

The huntress swallowed hard. "Do you…have any experience with things like this?"

She could hope.

"No. There's never even been a hostage situation in Cocoon during my lifetime." Light sighed and then clenched her jaw. She had no idea what to do at the moment, and though she would die before admitting it aloud, she was secretly terrified that whatever course of action she decided on, even if was quiet indecision itself, would result in lethal failure for the very individuals she was trying to rescue. She was trained to fight and to attack, not to save and shield. Without even realizing it, she was becoming rapidly stuck in a mental quagmire of "what-if's" when Fang finally took charge.

"Well, there's no choice in the matter then."

Lightning had a moment to look bemused before becoming rapidly alarmed as Fang brushed off her hands and then stood and grabbed her lance again.

"Fang," Lightning hissed. "Do you even have any hostage negotiation experience?"

Fang gave her what was supposed to be a flirtatious wink and walked right by. "No time like the present, right?"

She was greeted to the adorable sight of Lightning looking completely thunderstruck at her audacity before she continued and heard the other woman scramble to get on her feet in a last ditch attempt to drag the Oerban back down before they gave up their position.

Too late.

Fang sauntered onto the open floor of the amphitheatre as though she owned the building, commenting aloud to herself even as she could just imagine the silent curses Lightning was spewing in her mind while she caught up a half-step behind her.

"Mmm…definitely better than the last time I was here, but still, the general ambience could use some work. Maybe lighten things up a bit? Eh, for now I have to give it a 2.5 out 5."

Jihl sputtered for a moment as the entire room seemed to stare incredulously at Fang's entrance. Then she recovered herself.

"How  _dare_  you? How dare you even set foot in here?"

"I was never very good at following rules, you know," continued Fang jovially, though her eyes flashed dark fire at Jihl.

"Fang…"

She also chose to ignore the sigh of exasperation from Lightning.

Nabaat ground her teeth before screeching out, "Guards! To me!"

During the cold silence that followed, Fang bared her teeth in a mockery of a smile and waggled her fingers. "Forgot to tell you, I don't have very good guest manners either. Not exactly house trained yet, I guess."

Rosch and Dysley both straightened visibly as the realization dawned upon them, while their captives shifted in their seats. For her part, Jihl first grew pale before flushing red with a mixture of embarrassment and rage.

"You filthy, worthless piece of lowlander shi—not another step closer! Or else!"

Both Fang and Light froze in their tracks as Jihl whipped out her bladed baton and Rosch lifted his saber menacingly against Cid's throat. To move another step would be to risk the livelihood of Cid, Alyssa, and Bartholomew. Fang was wringing her mind for any ideas of what to do next—should they attack, would they even have time?—when the true ringleader of the entire coup finally spoke for himself

"You disservice yourself, Jihl. Calm yourself." Fang noticed with interest how the woman immediately silenced herself at Dysley's simple command. She really was his leashed dog, then. The older coup leader's ice blue eyes looked over Fang contemptuously, and then, without bothering to even acknowledge the huntress, he turned his gaze onto Lightning.

"Claire Farron…I should have known that you would slip the watch I'd ordered placed on you."

"Then you should have known that I'd come back for you, Dysley," she retorted calmly, matching him steel for steel in a simple look.

Dysley's eyes narrowed.

"Don't be a fool and throw your life away, Claire. Don't you see? There is no need for any of this."

"You're the one holding a majority of the Council hostage, Dysley."

He nodded slowly, his wrinkled and worn face both completely serious and content. "I am. And contrary to what you may believe, this is not something I wanted to do. There is no need for us to cross blades now, or to be at odds. If you and your compatriots would only listen, then perhaps we can finally sort this out on terms that all of us will agree on."

"Somehow, I doubt that…" The grumbled comment came from Bartholomew of all people, who was silenced with a promisingly threatening glare from Rosch. Before Lightning could voice her own protests, Dysley continued, his voice soothing and logical as he argued his case.

"I can give you your entire life back Farron. Forget the farce of the trial—it will be done, and stricken from the annals. I will personally name you hero of Cocoon, award the highest honors possible…both to you and your house. Think. I can guarantee Sarah's safety, her happiness. And I can do the same for you."

"Oh, can you?" She didn't even bother to hide the disdain dripping in question.

Dysley's eyes, and those of nearly everyone else, flickered over to Fang, who briefly felt overwhelmed with the scrutiny after being so steadfastly ignored for the past minute. Then Dysley continued.

"Yes, I can. I can even promise your friend a long and full life within our walls…granted, of course, that she remain here and never contact the lowlands again." He seemed to struggle slightly over the word "friend", though it could have just as easily been a nuance in his intonations. "All of this, I  _can_  swear to you, with Commander Nabaat as my sworn witness."

"Farron," interrupted Cid. Even with a sword held next to his carotid artery, he kept his voice calm. "Don't listen to what he's offering."

"Lieutenant-Colonel?" prompted Jihl.

Rosch pressed his blade in just a fraction harder, drawing the thinnest line of blood from Cid's pale skin. "You will not speak another word, Raines, unless Commander Naabat or Regent Dysley ask you to, understood?"

He made no answer, which indicated his implicit understanding of what would happen if he spoke up again. Then, finally, Lightning spoke.

"I'm insulted, Commander," she said, her eyes still connected with Cid, and her voice both angry and affronted. "I would think you of all people would know me well enough to know that I'd rather die before handing over my honor to these arrogant, self-serving mockeries of a public servant."

Each one of her words was a barbed whip, lashing out at the coup leaders even while she refused to move her gaze from Cid. Fang sucked in a breath through her teeth, now waiting for the explosions to ensue. So much for any spur of the moment hostage negotiation ideas. The situation was now officially a volatile mess. Lightning concluded anyway, assuring that there was no mistaking her position in the matter by anyone.

"I'll take my honor before any worthless bribes of yours, Galenth."

At the comment, Yaag Rosch's pale eyes abruptly went as wide as though he had been unexpectedly hit. Fang noticed it, and on instinct she now struck—not with her blade or her physical strength, but with her words and her wit. She didn't take the time to even consider what she was doing; her gut was telling her that the window of opportunity was open, and now was the time to seize the chance, or to lose it.

"You seem surprised about all this talk on honor, Rosch," said Fang. It was the first thing she had uttered in some time, and everyone's attention quickly honed back in on her, though she focused solely on her target: Rosch.

He sneered though, the scar on his forehead undulating as his brow moved. "And what would you know of our honor, lowlander?"

She shrugged. "More than what you might think. I know of what I've see here. And I know Lightning."

"Lightning!" he decried. "Lightning Farron committed the gravest crime of them all for a knight—she sacrificed her duty. She sacrificed the needs of the people for her own wants.  _That_  is a reprehensible abandonment of honor."

"And yet here she is now, still trying to protect and serve, even when—if she had so sacrificed all of her honor and duty as you say—she could have escaped hours ago." Then she laughed, letting all of her feelings show through. "You spout off about the principles of honor and righteousness, like you're such a paragon example of them yourself. What makes you so high and mighty in comparison, huh? Or are you just jealous?"

She taunted him deliberately, her intuition demanding that she bait him.

Rosch snarled, sounding both equally enraged and defensive as he gestured with his free hand. "Farron is a noble, no different than Raines. She has had every courtesy and every hand offered to her along the way, whereas I have  _worked_  every step of the way to get to where I stand now, and to do what is needed for the people!"

"Even if it means pointing a blade against one of the leaders of the very people you serve?" asked Fang, raising her eyebrows. Her question was mostly rhetorical, and though she couldn't help but smirk as she spoke, her tone was now devoid of any biting sarcasm that would normally be there. And that seemed to catch him off guard.

"I…" He struggled now, lost for a moment as he looked first at his weapon, frowning, and then at Lightning, who stood as calm and immobile as ever, and who had now picked up on what game Fang was playing.

"Even if I'm without honor, Yaag, you still have it. Tell me, what honor commands your hand right now?" Lightning's voice was level and even, choosing not to engage in the accusations that had been thrown at her.

At her question back, though, both parties of regents exploded into fierce debate, all of them now clearly sensing the same wavering in Rosch's resolution as what Fang had initially picked up on.

"What are you doing, Rosch?" snapped Nabaat. "We've had enough of trying to reason with these scum—"

Bartholomew tried to intervene. "Yaag, come now. See what's going on here?"

As he tried to say more, Dysley spoke over him. "Not another word from you, Estheim! Not another word!"

"Silence." It was hardly more than whispered request from Rosch as his brow furrowed and he closed his eyes. Sensing his sudden indecision, both sides pressed their arguments further instead.

"Yaag, please, think about what you're doing…" began Alyssa reasonably.

Dysley spoke at the same time. "Lieutenant-Colonel, don't you even dare think to…"

"SILENCE!" roared Rosch, and a tremor of fear ran through everyone in the room. No one, not even Jihl, dared to speak again, for fear that they would now push him in the opposite direction of their desires. But each and every one of them knew that whatever happened next, whoever Rosch sided with would be the ones that history would remember as the victors in the coup. The balance now hung with him.

He stared as his blade again, with its ornately decorated hilt as was befitted for such a high ranking officer. Then he glanced at Jihl, at Regent Dysley, briefly at Fang, and finally settled his indecipherable glare on Lightning, saying nothing but searching silently for the answers to whatever unspoken questions plagued him.

Lightning accepted his pinning gaze, but thought to communicate nothing with her eyes. She had never been close with Rosch, had never known him on a first name basis. But she knew  _who_  he was, no different than how he had to have known who she was.

He was Lieutenant-Colonel Yaag Rosch of the Borealis Day Watch, second only to Jihl Nabaat herself. He had certainly worked his fair way to his position in life now, and for all that he did serve under Jihl, Lightning had only ever heard and seen proof of how he had acted steadfastly in his job to protect and serve, no differently than how she had tried to do the same in the Zephyr Guard.

She could do nothing more now than what she had already done. Whatever was to occur next was beyond her control, and for once, she wholly accepted it. Her actions and her choices had all led to the person she was, and to where she now stood. Perhaps she was guilty of what the Lieutenant-Colonel had accused her of; perhaps she had, at times, thought of her own personal wants and desires before thinking of the needs of the people. But even so, she knew that she had performed her duties to the best of her abilities, and thinking of Cid, thinking of Alyssa and Bartholomew, thinking of Serah and Fang and even of her own long dead parents, she held no regrets. She had done what was needed. And Rosch would have to be the judge of that.

There was complete quiet except for the blood pounding in her ears as she held Rosch's gaze unblinkingly.

Then his brow darkened, his hand tightened perceptively on the hilt of his saber, and even as Lightning mentally prepared herself for the splash of arterial blood, he swung the curved blade around the other way in the blink of an eye, pointing the tip now at Galenth Dysley's throat.

"You will surrender to the will of Senate for judgment on your crimes against the people."

His voice was soft but made of iron.

Jihl immediately began shrieking her protests before Yaag silenced her with a hot glare that rivaled Lightning at her best.

"Be  _silent_ , woman! If you have any semblance of honor left, you will be still and go quietly."

For his part, Dysley said nothing, instead bowing his head low, clearly defeated.

At that very moment Rygdea and Sol burst in on the scene, a slew of soldiers and warriors following behind them

"You're a bit late, I'm afraid," said Cid, apologetically.

"Commander!" yelled Rygdea, sounding somewhat abashed, even as he ran in to ensure that everything was under control.

Cid then rose from where he had sat at sword-point only moments earlier, looking as though he was finishing an afternoon tea meeting, not escaping with his life after hours of being held hostage. He fixed the cuffs on his intricate robe and gently blotted away some of the blood from his face and neck with a handkerchief.

"Well, I think I've certainly had my share of excitement for the evening."

"An occupational hazard, young Raines," corrected Alyssa, graciously accepting the arm of a Zephyr Guardian as she, too, straightened, looking regal and in control.

Dr. Estheim, despite having only just been rescued, was already moving in toward Rygdea as well as Sol, introducing himself toward Fang's father courteously even as he inquired about any injuries that might need his attention. The huntress was about to go and rejoin her father when her sights were caught by something else that intrigued her.

Yaag Rosch still had his blade perfectly trained on Galenth Dysley, though Fang noted now that his arm shook ever so slightly; she did not think it was from fatigue.

Having appropriately groomed himself, Cid approached the Borealis Lieutenant-Colonel, and inclined his head to him while speaking at the same time.

"May the blood freeze in my veins before I bow my head lower than my heart. Honor of the northern wind, soldier."

Fang didn't understand a word of what Cid was trying to say, but whatever it meant obviously had a profound effect on Rosch, who finally lowered his blade to the ground, then closed his eyes and sighed with the exhaustion of a man who had gone through personal hell and back.

Two rescuing Zephyr soldiers then stepped up in his place, handcuffing the senior-most member of the Council and leading him away with Nabaat in tow.

The breath shuddered out of Fang as looked around the now bustling amphitheatre.

It was over. They had won.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter--the closing of the story, and the tying up of some loose ends...

Snow groaned and leaned back into his chair as at long last their deliberations finished for the night. Night was a relative term, though, since the sun would be rising in less than an hour. There had been discussion and deliberations for the greater portion of the night since the coup was upended, and they had all centered right here in the Farron manor until they finally ended (at least until daylight) just minutes earlier. Once they rescued the Commander and the other regents from Dysley and Nabaat, things had only grown more hectic instead of calming down. While the majority of Borealis troops had surrendered once the Zephyr forces had retaken the Senatorial district, there was still nearly an entire battalion's worth of unaccounted for watchmen prowling the streets, unaware or uncaring that their coup leaders had been stopped and captured.

Snow would have been more than happy to help with the roundup crews in comparison to what he had been stuck doing, but a meaningful glance and the softest of requests from Commander Raines had sealed his fate for the remainder of the night. Sleep was put on the back burner as the remaining regents, Yaag, Rosch, the high ranking Zephyr officers, and a few of the Oerbans all convened to discuss the state of affairs. Oh, and Lightning and Fang had been present, too. He understood that, but wished to the gods that the regents hadn't wanted his presence, as well; sometimes, being a member of one of the Noble Houses did not have its benefits. He hadn't even gotten to leave early from the meetings like Lightning had either! When they had finished their initial settlements with Sol and the Oerban captains, the Oerbans had, understandably, been allowed to leave and retire for the evening; but then Lightning had been given leave with Fang at the same time, which was hardly fair considering that Snow had been forced to sit through the next endless of hour of debating internal Cocoonian politics with the other officials there.

He wanted to stifle a groan even now. At least they come up with a plan to get them through the rest of the night and into the day. And, truth be told, he supposed that he could understand why they had let Lightning leave. He knew enough from prior experience to tell that when Lightning's tone got that irritated and her eyes flashed cold fire that way, it was best to let her be…and perhaps the other officers and officials knew that, too. Still, he was jealous, and just really, really, tired.

It took effort, but he finally stood up from his chair, though he did groan aloud this time. His muscles were already protesting at the abuse they had received from the midnight battles he had been waging.

"Snow?"

"Serah? You…" he stopped what he was saying as a yawn took over his jaws. After blinking his eyes clear again, he continued. "You're still up? You should go to bed."

She smiled and raised an eyebrow, looking entirely too reminiscent of her older sister for a moment. "I think you need sleep even more than I do right now, Snow."

"Ugh…yeah. I need to get back to my place…" He groaned again. He would be lucky if he didn't fall asleep on the walk back to the Villiers manor. It would be just his luck to pass out on the street, probably when he was barely a block away from his own bed.

Serah offered a different option, though. "Stay here tonight with me, Snow. You're dead on your feet. There's no need to go back to your place."

That woke him back up, and he looked around nervously for a moment. "A-are you sure, Serah?"

In the past, Lightning had been terrifyingly adamant that Snow not stay over in the manor with Serah, at least not under her watchful eye. But this time Serah laughed casually and put a reassuring hand on her fiancé's arm. She thought of how unusually defensive and snarly Claire had been when she at last told off the million and one military personnel trying to talk with her, in favor of guiding an exhausted Fang back toward her own bedroom instead—and Serah had to say that she approved.

"Let's just say that I don't think Lightning's in much of a position to comment anything on it this time, Snow."

* * *

 

Fang blearily opened her eyes. She didn't even need to roll over and look at the window to know that she had slept in far later than what she ever normally would. A few stray rays of sunshine were managing to peak in through the cracks between blinds to let her know that much.

She rolled over to try and get more comfortable, and nearly jerked with surprise at finding herself not alone in bed.

_Of course._

It had only been a few hours before dawn when they were finally allowed to retire. Even though they had dealt with the principle instigators of the coup, it had still taken some time to decide amongst the remaining military commanders and Council members what to do. Lightning had been part of the greater discussions, as had Sol, and by de facto Fang had had to sit through all of it with them, until even Lightning had grown too tired to continue any further.

Fang had been nearly delirious with physical exhaustion by that point, barely able to stay on her feet after the endless hours of running around and fighting. She honestly couldn't even remember falling into bed herself, let alone doing so with Lightning at her side. Propping herself up onto an elbow, Fang took the moment to better study the sleeping beauty before her.

It was then that Fang realized she had never seen Lightning asleep before. The woman always held herself so tightly when she was awake; there was something almost enchantingly relaxed about her in a sleeping state. Especially now, with the light filtering over her features, she looked not like a soldier, but like a vision of grace itself. Fang had to choke back a snort when she thought about how Lightning would react if she told her she was "a vision of grace". On second thought, it might be worth it just to see what that reaction was. She grinned, but left well enough alone; the woman was still sleeping, after all.

Instead, Fang further surveyed her surroundings, realizing now, too, that she had not been fully aware last night of just where she had fallen asleep. This was not the same master bedroom that she had been placed in while healing from her wounds, with its impeccable decorations but lack of personal touch-ups. This room was different…cozier. There were hooks by the door where two bright red capes were hung; a mannequin had the familiar feather-mantle placed over it, with pieces of armor discarded to the side; Fang's own lance was carefully placed next to the resting sword. She continued to look around, browsing over the small bookshelf and the bowl of jewelry items, before resting on the small bedside painting of two little strawberry blonde girls in a portrait stance with their obvious mother and father. Though the four family members were seated formally in the painting, the artist had caught the true spirit behind the smiles that they all wore. That, combined with the faint but pervasive smell roses all about told her what she had already guessed. She was in Lightning's room.

Fang studied the picture of Lightning and her family, until a rustling broke her concentration.

"Sleep well?"

Lightning's voice was low and husky, still thick with the sleep that kept her eyes only half-lidded even as she stretched. Fang looked down at her, at first happy to see that she was awake, but growing more upset with thought of actually rolling out of bed. Good sleep or no, she still hadn't had enough of it for her tastes.

"Do we have to get up yet?" She was trying not to whine, but it was difficult. She expected that everyone and their mother was going to want to talk with Lightning—big shot celebrity that she was as a Farron and a counter-coup leader—and knew that there would be more than a few people wanting to sit down and have a chat with her as well; just the thought of it made her want to cringe. It was not an ideal way to start her day.

Lightning glanced at the window, and at the strong sunlight that was sneaking through around the edges.

"Looks to be early afternoon," she commented offhand. "But considering all of the events of last night, I doubt they'll be expecting us for at least another few hours. Even with the upheaval, or maybe because of the upheaval, they'll likely not want to be dealing with us quite yet either."

"Oh, good," huffed Fang, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back onto the pillow with a whoosh. When she cracked open her eyes again, she saw Lightning's now fully alert and azure gaze watching her, the corners of her lips twitching upward in some hidden joke.

"Are you going to be quite alright?" she asked.

Fang exhaled loudly through her nostrils; she really had no desire at all to get up and deal with the real world and its insanity for a while, but a few hours would have to do. "Quite. It's just…Dr. Estheim was right. My injuries are fine, but I feel bloody tired. Laying in sounds great."

It was no lie. Having worn off all of the adrenaline that had fueled her throughout the course of the wild night, she felt like she could go right back to bed with ease. In fact, it was all too simple to feel the allure of sleep as her eyes blinked closed again. But this time they shot back open as Lightning shifted her weight next to Fang and moved over and on top such that she straddled Fang's hips between her legs. The Cocoonian had one eyebrow masterfully raised, and while her smile had grown, it had morphed away from humor and into something else that made Fang's pulse begin to race.

"Mmm. Tired, huh?"

Lightning's eyes were brighter than crystal, and Fang felt a liquid heat surge through her body at the hot gaze that seared into her, burning away all thoughts of sleep. "You know on second thought, I don't really feel that tired after all."

She then eagerly pulled down a laughing Lightning into her waiting arms.

* * *

 

Thankfully, when they did finally emerge from Lightning's chambers, they did not have to worry about any immediate assaults. Instead, though it was only mid afternoon, they were greeted in the main dining room by a long table filled with platters of food and pitchers of juice. Snow and Serah already sat at one end of the table, and Fang recognized two senior Yun hunters—Kaz and Terra—sitting next to her father and Vanille. The casual conversation that had been going on faded as they entered the room, and Fang wanted to grin and make a witty comment at the not-so-subtle looks she was receiving from her fellow hunters, not to mention Serah, Snow, or Vanille. However, considering the rosy tint that was already rapidly adorning Lightning's cheeks, Fang thought the better of it; an itching feeling in the back of her head told her that Lightning might give her a smack for it instead of a kiss.

So instead she wished a healthy good afternoon and began loading a plate with food to feed her empty and crying stomach.

"Sleep well with Fang, then, sis?"

Watching the way that Lightning's eyes narrowed dangerously at Snow's smiling and deliberate question, Fang was now more certain that her choice in not making a quip earlier had been the right one…and that Snow might have a death wish. But before Lightning could either answer or contemplate doing something more unsavory to her future brother-in-law, there was the sound of the front door opening and closing, and then several sets of booted feet marched into the room, Cid at their head. Serah got the first word in.

"Commander Raines, back so soon?"

"Please don't tell me it's time to resume talks yet," bemoaned Snow, sliding back in his chair.

Cid smiled, but the gesture did not reach his eyes. "Not yet, Snow…though I'm afraid more pressing matters have brought me here."

He took a deep breath and then uttered two words.

"Dysley's escaped."

"What?!"

The question echoed loudly, spoken by multiple mouths at the same instance. Fang had fought the urge to jump to her feet, though Snow had clearly not done the same, his chair knocked back as he stood.

"What do you mean, man?" asked Sol, his deep baritone clearly voicing his confusion and apprehension. "I thought we nailed down that snake of yours last night. How have you managed to lose him?"

Cid looked both pained and disgusted as he explained. "Believe me when I say that am equally—if not more—upset by this as all of you. How he managed to get out…well, he always had his connections. What we  _are_  sure of is that he is no longer in the city. That old bastard is probably halfway down the mountain by now, and frankly, we don't have the resources right now to go after him."

No one could argue with that.

"Ha," laughed Sol suddenly, a vicious smirk now curling his lips. "Would that I could have seen that viper trying to scuttle his measly way out of here as fast as his traitorous feet could carry him. Where does he think to go, I wonder? Besides, he can only run so far. Once we put the word out in all of the nearby kingdoms…"

Cid inclined his head to Sol, now starting to smile again as well. "That's right. There are important things than him now. We have new friends and new victories to celebrate. And we have much work that needs to be done first."

They were simple words, and simple reassurances, but they struck a chord within Fang, and she felt her shoulders relax. She looked at the table of people around her, and then turned left and looked into Lightning's eyes, and something within her warmed and relaxed even further. She could have nearly jumped when Lightning's hand sneaked under the table to grab hers, but instead she smiled. They would have time to hunt Dysley later.  This was what mattered the most: the here and now.

* * *

 

Normally, Lightning would be riding Odin instead of doubling up with her on top of Bahamut; not that there wasn't enough room, or that Fang was by any means complaining, but Odin was "molting feathers" or something equally bizarre, so here they were on Bahamut, Lightning's arms wrapped steadfastly around her middle.

Fang urged her dragon into a slight dive, and then grinned victoriously when she felt the desired result of Lightning squeezing her tighter around her midriff. Armor aside, Fang enjoyed the feeling of Lightning tightly pressed against her back, and she would savor every opportunity she was given.

"…lecher…" chided Light, though there were hints of laughter underneath it.

Fang turned her face ever so slightly and wiggled her eyebrows in the crude mimicry of a leer. "After last night, why would I be anything but?"

Following the leads that they had collected all the way to the Paddra metropolis, they had been invited to stay a night in the city at the generous insistence of the High Priestess Yeul herself before they continued. Both she and Lightning had been more that pleasantly surprised to see the prestige of a Titan had granted them a sumptuous suite complete with lavish silk trappings and a single, massive bed for the two of them. Despite their early start this morning, Fang liked to think that they had made good use of that large bed for a better portion of the evening. At the very least, they both had a few bruises or scratches beneath their clothing and armor to show for it.

_Though tired from their travels, they had taken dinner with Yeul and Caius, not wishing to give insult after they had offered them a place to stay for the night on such short notice. Dinner had been sumptuous, and their hosts more than kind, but Fang was more than eager to retire by the end of the meal, fine with wherever they were to be stowed for the night as long as it wasn't on the cold, hard ground. Their guest suite had been anything but that._

_Upon stepping foot into their room, Fang stopped short, stunned with both the size and luxury of the space, which seemed more appropriate for a visiting princess, in her opinion. There was even a small, artificial stream that ran through the far side of the room, providing a constant and pleasant background sound of running water. Yes, there were definitely some great perks that came with being Titan, and also possibly as the leading delegate to Cocoon amongst all of the lowland kingdoms. Stealing a quick glance at Lightning, she also conceded that it helped that Light was considered a high ranking emissary from Cocoon, not to mention that the whole shock and awe effect of her being an actual living Zephyr Guardian was still fresh on the minds of most kingdoms._

_Either way, it was a very, very nice suite._

_There were even two complete bathrooms, both waiting with freshly drawn baths for them. Eager to take advantage of the still steaming water, Fang had very nearly jumped into her bath, letting the scented water soak into her tired muscles even after she had vigorously scrubbed every last speck of dirt from her skin. It was only the vain fear of letting her skin get pruned that finally gave her motivation enough to extricate herself from the tub and don the silken robe that waited for her on a nearby hook. She smirked at the white patterned flowers on the purple garment as she slid it over her shoulders—while she enjoyed the design of her night robe, she couldn't help but wonder what style Lightning had been given. Thankfully, she didn't have to wait long to find out._

_Upon emerging from the bathroom, she found that Lightning had already finished bathing, her water-darkened hair resting lightly atop her white and black patterned robe. Fang thought off-handedly that robe looked particularly elegant on her, but was noticing more at the moment how Lightning was also currently busied with something on the night table, and had her back and her attention conveniently turned from Fang for a few precious seconds. Fang seized the opportunity before Lightning could even realize what she was up to, and moved in like a hunter about to strike their mark._

" _Fang, what are you—oomph!"_

_She was cut off as she was pushed down onto the bed, pinned in place by Fang's legs even as her both of her wrists were caught above her head by one of Fang's hands. She twisted, trying to reverse positions, but Fang was stronger, and she had been caught good and well before she could raise her guard._

_The gleam in Fang's eyes now was downright predatory, and her voice was softly silken. "Your reflexes need some work, Light."_

" _Let me go." The words were uttered in a low but powerful voice, accompanied with an imperious glare, and for a moment, you could all too easily forget that she was the one caught. This was a look that Fang knew all too well. Anyone else at the receiving end of that glare would cower beneath the perceived anger; but Fang recognized the way Light's eyes had distinctly darkened, now more of a sapphire than an azurite, and instead of feeling fearful, she felt the familiar rush of adrenaline and desire set fire to her blood. This was Lightning's commanding tone, the one that was demanding obedience and submission, and the one that Fang always felt the thrill in deliberately refusing to acknowledge—not all the time, of course, because that_ would _ruffle Light's feathers a bit too much…but every now and then…_

_She pushed her mouth down to Lightning's, coaxing and teasing her with her lips and tongue and all the tools and experience she had at her disposal until the Zephyr warrior moaned and arched her back such that Fang could feel the press of her hardened nipples through the thin layers of fabric that still separated them._

_At that point, Fang pulled back—not all the way, but just enough so that Lightning could see the full grin that she now allowed to decorate her face. She still held Lightning's wrists captive in her hand, and still held her waist captive between her legs, for all that the woman continued trying to writhe and wriggle her way free to get the upper hand._

" _I don't think so." Fang exhaled breathily. "Tonight, love, I'm on top."_

And with that, Fang had proceeded to thoroughly ravish her woman senseless. Of course, Lightning had returned the favors—though Fang knew there would be further, future payback for her choice in refusing to obey the initial command Lightning had given her. She shivered with pleasure as she contemplated just what that payback might fully entail later tonight.

"Are you alright?" asked Lightning, having felt the full body shiver.

"Oh yes," Fang reassured her. And for that, she got an immediate and severe smack to the back of her head. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Keep your mind out of the gutter and on our objective, Fang."

_Woman's a damn mind reader!_

Fang wanted to argue that she never had any issues in the past on being able to switch over to serious, battle-mode, even when her thoughts had been wandering elsewhere, but she also knew from experience that it would earn her a second smack—regardless of the fact that she was right.

They  _did_  have an important task at hand, though. After nearly two months of silence, the leads had finally picked up on Galenth Dysley's whereabouts, and they daren't pass up the moment lest they lose him again. After months of cold, dead end trails, the lead had finally picked back up; word had reached them only two days ago in Oerba of a man who matched Dysley's description that had been moving through the Macalania Forest, leading a group of outlaws and bandits. There had not been a second to spare at the news, even with Odin out of commission. Fang and Lightning had immediately flown off to Paddra on Bahamut, a journey that would have taken at least twice as long even on the fleetest of chocobos. And now here they were, gliding over the tree tops and desperately searching for any sign of the man who would have signed their death warrants had he only been given the chance.

"There!"

Lightning whispered it into her ear, intent and focused as she pointed toward a slight clearing off to their left. Even with her hunter's experience, Fang saw nothing between the branches and leaves, but she had learned from the past month or two to trust in Lightning's keen eyes and senses. So she leaned against Bahamut, and they banked sharply. Then, as they dropped in altitude and approached, she saw the flash of color and movement of humans below them. Needing no further urging, Bahamut dove downward, felling trees under his vast body as they crashed into the clearing.

Lightning leapt off in an instant, sword free and moving even as Fang soon followed behind her, and her dragon roared and thrashed at the bandits they had dropped down on.

Panic ensued, and those bandits who had managed to evade their initial attack quickly fled back into the thick of woods, but that was not of their concern anymore. Outlaws and lackeys could be dealt with at a later time; they were after bigger prey.

Lightning marched forward, her sword pointed forward and her eyes coldly focused on the man they had been scourging the lowlands for during the past few months. "Galenth Dysley.

"Farron," he hissed, positively livid. He held his ground, his voice and eyes spitting fire.

"Did you really think you would manage to get away, Dysley? What did you think you were going to do?" Lightning's voice was perfectly cold and calculating, communicating just the right amount of incredulity.

"I refuse to surrender to the likes of you!"

As if he actually had some choice in the matter?

"Don't be a fool and throw away your life," mimicked Fang, recalling the words that he had told to Lightning herself many months earlier. If the man refused to be taken in, then it would be death, though she honestly didn't think it would come to that. Dysley might venomous, but he loved his life too much to end over something as intangible as "principles" or "honor". They had already seen that.

If looks could kill, she would surely be dead ten times over by now. Instead, Fang smiled back sweetly and twirled her lance around for show; she also chose to say nothing about the way that Lightning's lips twitched upwards ever so slightly, though she  _did_  notice it.

"This isn't negotiable, Dysley," Lightning intoned. "We're taking you back to face the justice of Cocoon."

At this, Dysley sneered and bared his teeth, looking nearly rabid now. "Oh, I have no doubt that there is no room for negotiation here. Each step of the way, you and your little barbarian friend have thwarted my every move. You've been more than a nuisance, Farron; you've been an absolute curse on all of the greater designs and prosperity that I would have brought to Cocoon. You think you've won now because you have me cornered, but you will take nothing back to that disgrace, Raines, and I'll be sure to leave you with less than what you think you've gained!"

He pulled a short stiletto from the hidden folds of his robes, and then dove surprisingly fast for a man of his age—but he lunged at Fang instead of Light.

Fang swore even as she wrenched her lance up, surprised by the turn of events. She had seen the glistening sheen on Dysley's stiletto, and she didn't even want to guess what manner of poison decorated the blade. But before she could move forward, before even Lightning could try to counterattack, Bahamut struck first. There wasn't even time to react. Dysley had all but a second to form a muted scream as his stiletto bounced harmlessly off of the dragon scales and he was swallowed in a single, quick gulp.

Both huntress and Zephyr guardian stood stock still, completely taken aback until, after a few seconds, Bahamut let out a grossly smoky belch, clearly pleased with himself.

"That…that just really happened, didn't it?" Light sounded unusually unsteady for once.

Fang allowed her mouth to gape for one second longer. Whatever she had expected to happen in that flash of a second as Dysley attacked, it had not been…that. She shook her head and tossed her unruly mane of hair back when Bahamut burped a second time, and then snorted loudly.

"If he gets indigestion…" The huntress was already bemoaning how unpleasant that would be, though her eyes twinkled as threw a hand up melodramatically.

"Fang…" That was accompanied with the rolling of eyes. Taken aback or not, Lightning had clearly recovered from her momentary lapse of composure.

"…just saying now that I called it. That's all." Fang made a placating gesture with her hands now. It would be just her luck as a dragon tamer to have a dragon with an upset stomach; but considering what a metaphorical bad egg Bahamut had just swallowed, she couldn't blame her mount if he ended up sick later.

"Well, with our mission already over, we have plenty of time…" Fang began, then trailed off as she stretched her arms and shoulders. They wouldn't even be expected back in Cocoon until tomorrow evening at the earliest, and with Dysley now…taken care of…Fang had no personal desire to rush back to the aerie city any faster than necessary.

Lightning had already started walking back toward Bahamut, her silver sword again sheathed and at her side. But now she stopped, turning her head back toward Fang.

"Perhaps we could spend more time in Paddra today, since I barely had a chance to see the city proper when we arrived yesterday." The wind lifted a few stray curls of champagne hair, and made her feather-mantle float around her legs and hip, while the sun winked and glittered off of her mirror-finished plate armor. She looked regal to Fang, filled with a poise and refinement that called forth all of her ancient noble bloodlines without even trying. And then she smiled. It was a special smile, one with pressed lips that showed no teeth but lit up her entire face just the same, breaking that untouchable air that the griffin rider so easily wore about her in asingle heartbeat; it was a special, secretive smile, and it was a smile that she reserved just for Fang. "And then maybe we could spend tonight in that same suite, if the High Priestess allows it. I do have some payback to deal to you after all, don't I?"

Then her smile morphed into that certain something more, the same something that made Fang's bones melt with adrenaline-filled anticipation. Fang shook her head and grinned. She was grinning when she jumped back atop her usual perch on Bahamut's back; she was grinning when Lightning took her seat behind her; she was grinning still when the Zephyr Guardian—the legendary warrior of mists and legends—wrapped her arms around her waist as they took flight again; and Fang had a sneaking suspicion as she heard Lightning's clear laugh ring next to her ear that she would be happy and grinning for quite some time yet to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. And this is the end of Hunter's Pursuit. I find it very surreal looking back at this story, namely the first chapter. That chapter was meant to be a one-shot, penned during a brief fit of inspiration while I waited for an oil change on my car. Never once while I was writing that first chapter did I dream that this was going to turn into a a full, multi-chaptered story; but I, at least, am very glad that I embarked on this unintended tale.
> 
> Now, as far as this last chapter, it came out significantly longer than originally planned. Pretty much the entire second half of the chapter (everything dealing with Dysley) was a bonus bit that I added on, namely to give a bit more vindictive closure on Dysley himself.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the last chapter, and I hope you enjoyed the story of Hunter's Pursuit overall. Thanks for reading!
> 
> ~Logos Minus Pity


End file.
